Date Night 2
by lizardmm
Summary: Buffy's been fighting evil since she was a teen. Now, resettled in Cleveland, pregnant, and in a stable relationship with the only other person who can understand her completely, this should be the part of the story where she gets her happy ending. Right?
1. Prologue: Slayers on a Plane

**Prologue: Slayers on a Plane**

Faith nudged the woman seated beside her. "What do you think is up with that guy?"

She nodded in the direction of a man seated in the exit row. He had the porthole-sized window drawn shut and one hand played solitaire on his phone while the other gripped at the overhead compartment lid. His jaw worked erratically around a piece of gum. He looked the picture of a nervous flyer, except one thing – he wore a commercial pilot uniform.

Buffy gripped onto her armrests tighter; the chair squeaked from the stress. "Oh God," she mumbled forlornly. "We're going to die."

Faith chuckled. She reached in the pouch in front of her knees and pulled out a water bottle. "No. We're fine," she reassured the blonde.

Buffy eyeballed her girlfriend. "How can you be so sure?"

Faith uncapped the water bottle and took a small sip. "Because_ that_ dude's not flying the plane."

The plane bounced a little with turbulence, but it quickly settled down. Faith appraised her nervous partner. Buffy's eyes were shut tight and she wore a grimace on her face. Faith could swear she heard the other woman humming "I Love Paris," beneath her breath.

"Why did you insist on coming if you're such a bad flyer?"

Buffy opened one eye. "And miss Dawn's graduation? No way."

"I'm sure she would have understood."

Buffy shook her head emphatically. "I can't miss this. It's too important."

"Why don't you write in your Belly Book?" Faith gently suggested. "It might calm you down."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right. Because journaling about the changes my body's going through is just the thing to calm me down."

"Well at least your belly button's not an outtie yet," Faith pointed out with a smirk. "Although, to be honest, I can hardly wait for that."

Buffy looked horrified. "Why would you ever wish that on me?"

Faith beamed. "Cause you'd be like a Thanksgiving turkey with that little red thermometer. I'd know when you were done."

Buffy blinked. "Is this you trying to make me feel better? Because you really suck at it."

Faith chuckled good naturedly. She pressed the button on her armrest and reclined her seat as far back as it would go, which admittedly wasn't a lot. "I'm gonna take a nap," she informed the other woman. "Wake me up when we get there."

Faith tucked her ear buds into her ears and turned on her iPod. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She was sure it wouldn't take too long for her to fall asleep. With Buffy too pregnant to patrol, she'd taken on the responsibilities of protecting the Cleveland Hellmouth, which resulted in late nights and not a lot of sleep.

Her rest was short-lived, however, when a blast of recycled air burst in her face. She opened her eyes to see Buffy fiddling with the overhead knobs and buttons. Faith frowned. "Remind me to tranq you the next time we're on a flight together."

Buffy frowned guiltily and placed her hands in her lap. She trapped her anxious fingers between her thighs. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Faith pulled her ear buds out and flashed her partner a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, babe. I think it's cute you're so nervous." She leaned over the armrest that separated them, and pressed her lips against Buffy's cheek, close to her ear.

Buffy couldn't help herself. She quietly sighed and her tightened shoulders relaxed.

Faith leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "Really? It was that easy?"

Buffy shrugged. "Okay. So maybe you don't completely suck at helping me relax."

The smile on Faith's lips curled into a leer. "I know a way to _really _relax you…"

Buffy snorted loudly. "Right. Like my belly could ever fit into one of these tiny airplane bathrooms, let alone the both of us."

Faith leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes again. "Don't say I never offered."

Buffy inconspicuously observed her girlfriend, taking advantage of Faith's eyes being closed. She envied how practically nothing seemed to rattle Faith – not even traveling across country in a flying death tube.

When it was clear Faith was serious about taking that nap, Buffy sighed heavily and pulled her spiral-bound book out of the carry-on bag she'd stored under the seat in front of her. Faith had bought the Belly Book for her soon after they'd moved in together. And although she hated anything resembling homework, Buffy had diligently recorded her thoughts in the book throughout her pregnancy.

As a college drop-out, she didn't have many accomplishments she could point to, minus saving the world half a dozen times, but she considered her longevity as a slayer and now the impending birth of a baby as a pretty decent legacy. Although she'd tried to hide her pregnancy in its beginnings, now, with just a few months left to gestate, she was excited and proud to be pregnant. She'd even taken a break from slaying for the safety of her unborn child. It had taken a few weeks for her skin to stop crawling, but now she was better adjusted to letting Faith pick up the slack.

Buffy opened the spiral-bound book and looked at the next section – Food Cravings. She bit on the end of her pen and thought. She'd never really craved specific foods before her pregnancy – food was Faith territory, not hers. If anything, her strongest urges revealed themselves after a particularly violent slay, but instead of devouring a whole pizza, she typically devoured Faith instead.

A few of their more…_adventurous _post-patrol trysts played through her head, and she squirmed in her seat at the memories. _When had it gotten _so warm_ in the airplane cabin_? she wondered. She closed her Belly Book, now thoroughly distracted from her original task, and returned it to the seat pouch in front of her.

She hazarded another look in the direction of her girlfriend. Faith's head was tipped back and her mouth was slightly agape in sleep. Over the incessant roar of the jet engines outside, Buffy could just make out Faith's even breaths.

Buffy wetted her lips as she admired the plump, parted lips and just the tip of pink tongue. Her gaze traveled down the long column of unblemished neck. She knew the barely-there scar on the other side with the same familiarity as her own. She'd spent countless hours sucking and kissing and biting the area if only to reassure herself that Faith was hers, and no one else's. Neck gave way to collarbone that was on display in the opening of Faith's v-neck top. The carved bones created an almost directional arrow, urging Buffy's attention lower to the swell of well-proportioned breasts that rose and fell beneath her top.

Buffy didn't consider herself a boob-girl. In fact Faith had labeled her an ass girl from the start. Buffy could hardly deny that she privately ogled her girlfriend's backside whenever given the opportunity. But that didn't mean she didn't fully appreciate Faith's shapely breasts – just barely more than a handful, olive toned even in the dead of Cleveland winter, and capped with dusty-rose nipples that were quick to tighten and harden from her attentions.

"And you're _sure _you're not interested in joining the Mile High Club?"

Buffy jerked her lascivious stare away from Faith's chest and raised her gaze to meet the brunette's amused face.

"I thought I saw a stain on your shirt," Buffy blurted out.

Faith flicked her eyes down to her clean shirt and then back to Buffy's flushed features. "Uh huh," she deadpanned. She stretched her long arms above her head and her back arched off her chair as she roused herself from sleep.

Traitors to her sanity, Buffy's eyes were once again drawn to Faith's chest and the newly revealed sliver of skin at the bottom hem of her shirt.

"Maybe next time we have to travel across the country we take the train."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Train? Do they still have those?"

Faith chuckled. "Don't knock it. I think it could be really fun. Everything just kinda slows down. You're not confined to a seatbelt, chair, and nonexistent leg room; there's a dining car where you can get food whenever you want, not at the whim of a flight attendant; and instead of a monotonous view of blue sky and the tops of clouds, you really get the chance to see America."

Buffy smiled. She rested her hand on Faith's thigh and rubbed small circles with the pad of her thumb. "That _does _sound nice," she admitted.

"Plus, if we do it up right," Faith noted with a waggle of her eyebrows, "we can get a sleeper car and have all the train sex we want."

Buffy stilled her thumb and lightly slapped her girlfriend's leg. "You're horrible," she chided. She couldn't help the smile that made it to her lips, however.

Faith grinned widely, displaying her deep dimples. She leaned across the armrest until her lips brushed against Buffy's jaw line, near her ear. "I bet a moving train vibrates _just right_." She slowly drawled out the final two words.

Buffy snapped her eyes shut. It had _definitely _gotten warmer in the plane. She squeezed her thighs together, a movement not lost on her girlfriend.

Faith's mouth moved along Buffy's neck – warm, wet, and yet just barely there. Her lips delicately fluttered against the sensitive skin like a butterfly's wings against fragile flower petals.

"Faith," Buffy quietly sighed. She didn't know if she should stop her partner now or beg for more. Did the Mile High Club count if you never left your seat?

"What is it, baby?" Faith innocently and quietly breathed into her skin. "You need something?"

Buffy bit down on her lower lip and sucked it into her mouth. Faith had a nasty habit of not playing fair. How could she expect her to….in public…on a plane?

"You could always press the Call button if you need something, B," Faith murmured, undeterred. "I'm sure our flight attendant would be more than eager to help out if there's something you _need_."

Buffy's eyes immediately snapped open at the reminder of where they were. Their stewardess was only a few rows away, handing out complimentary beverages to the passengers seated in front of them. Buffy felt a strong hand squeeze her knee and then travel north.

"Faith." Buffy said her girlfriend's name again, this time in a warning tone.

Ignoring Buffy, Faith moved her hand further up. Buffy clamped her thighs together, pinning Faith's hand in place. Buffy looked worriedly between the hand still wiggling between the vice grip of her inner thighs and the beverage cart rolling steadily closer.

When she relaxed her leg muscles just for a moment, Faith's hand shot between her thighs and connected hard against her yoga pants-covered sex. Buffy's breath hitched in her throat, and Faith's eyes widened when she felt the damp heat radiating from her girlfriend's core. Something resembling a growl rattled in the back of her throat.

The squeak of wheels in need of lubrication came louder as the airplane hostess rolled closer still.

Faith cupped Buffy's pussy through her pants and pressed the heel of her palm hard against her, pulling a strangled whimper from the blonde. Buffy drew in a sharp breath when Faith's dexterous hand slipped beneath the waistband of her stretchy pants and immediately found her clit. She rubbed the sensitive nub in small circles with the tip of her middle finger.

Buffy clamped down on Faith's wrist. She made a quiet, pathetic noise, but she couldn't tell if she was begging the other girl to stop or begging her for _more_.

With her free hand, Faith unlatched the knobs that held their seat trays in an upright position. With gravity on their side, the trays noisily fell down, covering both of their laps and shielding them from the view of the flight attendant.

"Would you care for something to drink?" the cheerful woman implored, setting two square napkins down on the seat trays.

"Diet Coke or whatever you've got," Faith said smoothly.

Buffy coughed sharply when Faith wiggled the fingers still inside the front of her pants.

"And you, ma'am?" the attendant asked after setting down a small plastic cup in front of Faith.

Buffy was convinced her face was flushed red and her eyes were bulging. She felt Faith's fingers move again against her, hard and determined. "N-n-nothing," she stammered out, not trusting her own voice and wanting the flight attendant to move on to the next passengers as quickly as possible.

Faith continued to slip along her folds. Buffy couldn't believe how impossibly _wet _she was, and Faith had barely really touched her.

Buffy stared at the muscles of Faith's forearm as they flexed and twitched as she continued her determined ministrations. She knew her girlfriend. She wouldn't stop until she'd made her cum.

Buffy, too close to cumming to care about airplane propriety, spread her legs as far as her narrow seat would allow.

"That's my girl," Faith murmured her approval.

Buffy felt a solid finger separate her folds and slip inside. She bit back a moan, disguising the noise as a short cough.

Faith twisted slightly in her seat, not stopping.

Buffy gripped onto the tray table as if needing something to stabilize her. She bit down hard on her lower lip and her breath sounded haggard as she breathed in and out of her nose. When the initial wave of her orgasm washed over her, her body slumped forward.

Faith's hand stilled and she slipped out of Buffy's yoga pants. She bought her fingers up to her mouth and licked at the tips, grinning with satisfaction. Then she stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Nap time," she announced, almost cheerfully.

Buffy stared incredulously at her girlfriend. "Are you…are you _serious_?" she hissed.

Faith downed her small soda in one, long gulp before returning both their trays to the upright position. "My pants are too tight for you to return the favor. So I might as well catch up on sleep." She wiggled around in her chair, tipped her head back, and closed her eyes.

Buffy stared at her girlfriend's face for a few moments, still in disbelief about what had just happened and that Faith could so easily fall back asleep afterward. She'd just have to chalk this up to yet another thing that made Faith so unique.

Too wired for a nap herself, Buffy stared out the small airplane window and gazed at the tops of the clouds. Outside, the sun was hot and it warmed her through the thick plexiglass. The windows were blemished with cloudy water spots, and she wondered how often airplanes got washed, if at all. Maybe they just scheduled the particularly dirty planes to fly through Seattle.

Buffy squinted at a small imperfection on the window. She ran her finger over the glass, trying to determine if the line was a smudge or a crack and on which side of the glass it was. She tapped her fingers against the glass and her eyes widened as the crack turned into a spider web of cracks.

_I didn't tap it _that _hard_, she silently mused.

She tapped again, experimentally. Instead of cracking further, however, the glass stuck against the tip of her finger like warm caramel and moved wherever she repositioned her finger. Buffy looked over at Faith to see if her girlfriend was witnessing this, too. But Faith's head was tipped backwards, her mouth slightly agape, and her eyes tightly lidded with deep sleep.

Buffy turned back to the small windowpane and pressed her whole hand on the window, her palm flat against the glass. She pushed forward, exerting only a minimal amount of pressure and watched with a mixture of horror and curiosity as the window bowed out like a giant bubble. When Buffy pulled her hand back, the window snapped back to its original shape.

Buffy stared at the palm on her hand. "Well that's not right," she muttered to herself.

She reached across the armrest and shook Faith's arm to wake her. But the brunette wouldn't wake up. Her head lolled forward and a loud snore escaped her lungs. Buffy frowned. Faith was a heavy sleeper, but not _that _deep.

She looked around at the other passengers within her immediate vicinity. They, like Faith, all appeared to be sleeping, even the formerly anxious pilot seated across the aisle.

Buffy began to panic. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Even though the seatbelt sign was still illuminated, she unfastened the restraint and stood up. As far as she could see was a sea of unconscious passengers.

"Wake up!" she yelled.

She was only met with a chorus of deep, rumbling snores.

Buffy hurdled over Faith's legs into the center aisle. "Wake up!" she implored again, her voice bordering on desperate, again to no response.

She tried to wake Faith again, shaking her by the arms, rattling her body in its seated position. Faith showed no signs of waking and slumped forward in her chair when Buffy released her hold.

Suddenly, every instinct, every fiber of her being, screamed at her to get off that plane. _Right now._

Buffy took off, sprinting down the narrow airplane aisle towards the front of the plane. She had no grandiose delusions of busting into the cockpit and alerting the pilots. For all she knew, they were sleeping too and the plane was going down.

No flight attendants stopped her when she reached the front exit. Without hesitation, she grabbed onto the large-armed release latch and yanked down hard. The metal hatch popped open and she shoved. The cabin door gave way, and she was violently sucked out into the sunny afternoon sky.

Buffy abruptly sat up in bed. Her body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, yet her skin felt clammy. Two strong arms circled her torso.

"B? Baby? What's wrong?" came Faith's sleep-delirious voice.

"Nothing. Nothing." Buffy sucked in a deep, calming breath. "It was just a dream."

"The airplane one again?" Faith sat up slightly and gave her girlfriend a concerned look.

Buffy bit her lip and nodded.

Faith tightened her embrace and kissed the blonde's temple. "Are you sure you're okay? I know how upset that one makes you."

Buffy nodded. "I'm fine. Just…a little shaken up."

"Think it's a Slayer Dream?"

Buffy raised her shoulders and then let them sag. "I don't know," she said defeatedly. "If it was, wouldn't you be having them, too?"

Faith's features tightened. "Wouldn't be the first time the PTB left me out of the loop."

Now it was Buffy's turn to console her partner. "Don't," she hushed. She brushed a strand of hair away from Faith's face. She couldn't help a small smile; the other woman's face was marred with pillow lines.

"Okay," Faith said glumly, dropping her gaze guiltily.

Buffy sighed. "The dream doesn't make any sense. Why are we on a plane? With Willow's magic, we don't waste our money on airfare anymore. And what graduation are we attending? Dawn goes to college here." She shook her head. "I just wish I knew if this was important or if it's just some crazy pregnancy thing."

"How about we look into it tomorrow morning?" Faith suggested.

"We've got that doctor's appointment."

Faith nodded, remembering. "Okay, then afterwards. We'll get the gang together, order some pizzas, and do some old-fashioned research."

Buffy stuck out her lower lip. "I don't want to be an inconvenience. It could be nothing."

"You're not an inconvenience – you're Buffy," Faith smiled. "Besides. We haven't had any major Evil to avert lately. I'm sure the Scoobs are itchin' for an apocalypse."

Buffy laughed despite the foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach. Or it could be just acid reflux. This pregnancy had not been kind to her body.

"Be careful what you wish for," she admonished.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1: Gone

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and story follows, kittens. This will be my first story live-updating on FF, so I'm interested to see how this goes. All my other stories had been written and published elsewhere long before I thought about posting them on FF. Eager to read what you think about Chapter 1.**

* * *

The sound of Buffy's light laughter met Faith's ears. She looked up from stirring her cup of coffee. "What?" she demanded, feeling self-conscious.

"You make the blackest, strongest coffee in the world," Buffy noted, a smile tugging at her lips, "and then you douse it with enough sugar to make you diabetic."

"And your point is?" Faith shrugged under her zip-up hoodie.

Buffy grinned. She playfully kissed the end of Faith's nose, immediately banishing the stubborn pout that had found its way onto the dark slayer's lips. "No point. You're just cute. That's all."

"I'm dark, dangerous, and mysterious," Faith countered.

"Right," Buffy smiled knowingly. "So dark and dangerous that you picked me up a pint of Mackinac Island Fudge ice cream on your way home from patrol last night."

"Whatever," Faith protested. "It was on the way. It's not like I –."

"Went to four grocery stores before you finally found some?" Buffy interrupted. Her playful grin nearly cleaved her face in two.

"It was only three stores," Faith grunted her defense. "Stuff's hard to track down," she grumbled.

Buffy nodded. "Yes. Definitely dark, dangerous, and mysterious."

"Anyway," Faith said in a tone louder than necessary, abruptly changing the subject. "Sure you don't want some? Just a sip?" She held out the mug.

Buffy grabbed the cup, her hands covering Faith's. She leaned in and inhaled deeply through her nose. She made a little moan that sounded too sexual for Faith to let pass without a snarky remark. "Damn, B," she husked. "Don't get off just from the coffee beans. I'm starting to get a little jealous."

Buffy swatted Faith's arm and leaned away from her and the ceramic mug. "Pig," she chastised with a smirk.

Faith shook her head. "I don't know how you do it. No caffeine, no fish, no booze, no nothing. I know you have a martyr complex, but damn, girlfriend. This is like _saintly _behavior."

Buffy made a face. "What's it to you? At least I'm still having sex."

Faith wrapped her free arm around Buffy's waist and gently pulled her close enough so their stomachs touched – which, granted, with Buffy's current swollen-state, wasn't close enough. "Oh and believe me, baby," she purred. "I certainly do appreciate that."

Buffy laughed and pushed the taller girl away. "Hurry up and finish your coffee," she urged. "You're going to make us late for my doctor appointment."

* * *

Buffy stared in wonder at the tiny being wiggling around on the monitor located beside her hospital bed.

Her doctor moved around the ultrasound wand, the cool gel on her stomach making soft suction noises. "And there's the heart beat."

Small computer speakers were filled with a sound that vaguely resembled what Buffy imagined a horse's hooves rapidly striking under water would sound like. She looked away from the ultrasound monitor when she felt a soft hand take her own. Faith's beautiful features smiled warmly at her, and she squeezed her hand.

"No matter how many times I see that little mango and hear it's heart, it's always like the first time, ya know?" Faith announced in an uncharacteristic public show of emotion.

Buffy swallowed hard, surprised at how Faith's sentiments affected her. She felt a lump in her throat and she nodded in agreement, afraid that if she spoke, the words would get stuck on the way out.

Damn pregnancy hormones. Crying at the drop of a hat was something she would _not _miss when her baby was finally born. At this point, even ESPN commercials were making her cry. But holding Faith's hand and, together, watching the life growing inside her, made her pause and reflect on how amazing her life had turned out.

Admittedly, since her 16th birthday, her life had pretty much sucked. But now, with a baby on the way and the woman she loved holding her hand adoringly, it finally felt like the Fates were rewarding her for all the trials and tribulations they'd thrown her way. She wasn't a particularly religious person, but she'd always believed in the adage that God never gave you more than you could handle. God must have thought Buffy Summers could handle a lot. Or, He had one twisted sense of humor.

"And there's the baby's profile." Buffy's OB/GYN's voice snapped her away from her mental musings, and she returned her attention to the tiny life on the computer monitor.

"Just a few more weeks," Dr. Azabi observed, a smile in her voice. She pressed a button and a small printer whirred to life, spitting out a few copies of the baby's latest ultrasound image. "Getting excited? Nervous?"

Buffy nodded. "A little of both," she admitted. "But we've got the nursery just about finished, so that's a load off my mind. Dr. Azabi, you're positive you don't have any vacation plans coming up that you've forgotten about?" she worried out loud. She'd built a close rapport with the woman doctor over the past few months and trusted her. She hated to think that anyone else would be put in charge of helping her give birth when the time came.

Dr. Azabi laughed and her kind features crinkled. "Yes, Buffy. I'm positive. I will be here to deliver your baby."

"Relax, B. If the good doctor's busy, I can always take over." Faith flashed her girlfriend a smile filled with two rows of perfect teeth. "How hard can it be?"

"You're not funny," Buffy said, sticking her tongue out.

Dr. Azabi presented Buffy with the latest printout of her baby's ultrasound image. The Chosen One analyzed the digital features of her unborn child. With each doctor's visit, it was looking more and more human, which for Buffy was an obvious relief. She tucked the stack of pictures safely away in her purse. She always requested extra images – one for herself to go into her Belly Book, one to send to Dawn at college, one for Willow and Kennedy, and one for Preston, the baby's father.

Preston typically came along for every doctor's visit, he standing on one side of the hospital bed and Faith on the other. Today, however, he'd had an important meeting that couldn't be rescheduled, and Buffy had reassured her former fiancé that missing one doctor's visit wouldn't doom him to a future of bad Fatherhood.

Dr. Azabi handed Buffy a paper towel to clean the gel off her stomach. She scooted across the floor on her wheeled stool and washed her hands at a small in-room sink. "And you're sure you still don't want to know the baby's gender?" she questioned.

Buffy shook her head as she wiped the ultrasound goop from her rounded belly. "I'm going to love it either way, regardless if it's a boy or a girl."

"I'll just be happy if it's a _human_," Faith piped in.

Dr. Azabi chuckled and shook her head. Over the past few months of having Buffy as a patient, she'd come to appreciate the dynamic of the brunette and the blonde's relationship. "You're horrible. How do you put up with her, Buffy?" she teased.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I wonder that myself sometimes."

Faith opened her mouth, always ready with a retort dripping with sexual entendre, but she thought better of it. For Buffy's sake she'd been trying to curb the coarseness of her language, at least in public. She'd save that for the bedroom, instead. She wasn't whipped, she repeatedly told herself; she was just _maturing_. Plus, when she behaved, there was always some kind of reward when they got home.

"What are you smiling about?" Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow at her girlfriend.

"Nothing," the dark slayer said in a sing-song voice.

* * *

Faith slid into bed beside her sleeping girlfriend, careful not to wake her partner up. Her muscles ached in the best way from a particularly active evening on patrol; nothing she couldn't handle, just a few more vampires than usual and one particularly revolting demon in the Cleveland cemeteries. She mentally reminded herself to tell Giles about it in the morning. Maybe the Hellmouth was getting anxious about something.

When she'd returned home from patrol, she'd taken a long, hot shoulder to help ease the tension that had built up throughout the evening's activities, but she should have taken a cold shower instead. She was too worked up for sleep and the local delivery places were all closed for the night. There was only one other solution to her current predicament.

"Hey, B?" Faith whispered into the dark.

Her girlfriend, sleeping with her back turned to her, slightly stirred.

Faith reached out and placed her hand on Buffy's hip. Her tank top had ridden up during the night, leaving a healthy patch of skin uncovered. The warmth pulsing from Buffy's body felt reassuring, comforting. Faith slid her fingertips along the smooth skin.

"Buffy?" she tried again. She scooted a little closer, curling her body until she was spooning Buffy's smaller frame. She carefully swept Buffy's loose hair over her shoulder, giving her access to the nape of her neck. She pressed her mouth, warm and generous, against her girlfriend's skin.

The imperceptible movement of Buffy's backside becoming flush against her front pulled a knowing smile from Faith.

"Baby," Faith whispered into the shell of Buffy's ear. She made sure to let her lips brush over the sensitive skin, and she breathed softly and wetly into her lover's ear. "Are you awake?" She moved her hand from Buffy's hipbone and slid it up to the flat plane between her breasts.

"Mmm….good patrol tonight, baby?" Buffy murmured, slowly emerging from her heavy sleep. Even if it wasn't time to get up, Faith was the best alarm clock.

"The very best," Faith quietly breathed in her ear. "I wish you would have been there, babe. I haven't gotten to take you against a mausoleum in ages."

"Faith…" Buffy groaned lowly, still not quite fully awake, but cognizant enough to know what Faith was trying to do. "…the baby," she gently reminded her partner.

Buffy sighed contently and her body responded to Faith's gentle, but insistent touch. Her body reflexively arched into Faith when she slid a warm hand down along her flat abdomen. She bit down on her lower lip, stifling a low moan as Faith's hand swept lower still, her fingertips toying with the lace edging of her underwear.

Wait a minute. Her _flat_ abdomen?!

Buffy jerked away from Faith and threw the heavy comforter back. She stared down at her tank top-covered torso, by now used to sight of a tell-tale, swollen bump that for the past 8 months had been stretching out all her shirts. But instead of seeing her distended stomach, her belly was flat.

"What…"

She ran her hand down her abdomen. She hadn't been able to feel her stomach muscles in _months_, and yet here she was, supposedly 8 months pregnant, feeling her stomach muscles bunch and cord.

"This has to be a dream," she rasped. "I need to wake up."

"B…Buffy…what's wrong?"

Buffy flinched. In her panic, she'd nearly forgotten Faith was in the room, too. "It's…it's gone," she whispered, her eyes still locked on her stomach.

"What's gone?" Faith tentatively touched her partner's shoulder.

Buffy reluctantly tore her eyes away from her bare belly and looked up into dark, chocolate eyes that reflected concern. "My baby," she choked out. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "Where's my baby?"

Faith's unlined forehead furrowed and her eyebrows knit together. "What baby?"

"The one that's been growing in my stomach the past 8 months!" Buffy shrieked, no longer able to keep her panic under control.

Faith reflexively reached out for the smaller slayer who was now leaping out of bed. Buffy moved too quickly however, and was on her feet before Faith could grab her.

"Buffy," Faith started gently, as if addressing someone poised to jump off a bridge. "I'm not sure what's going on. Tell me what's wrong."

"Don't you notice anything _different _about me?" Buffy blustered.

Faith raised an eyebrow and raked in the site of her beautiful, if slightly manic and disheveled girlfriend. With Buffy in just a thin tank top and underwear, she wanted nothing more than to get her back in bed to continue what she'd started.

Realizing that Buffy was serious and waiting for a response, Faith shrugged helplessly.

Buffy jerked her body, turning to the side to become in profile. Her abdomen was more than flat, it was concave. "Really?!" she cried. She yanked the bottom hem of her shirt up and patted her naked stomach hard enough for the skin on skin to slap. "Still not ringing a bell?"

"Babe…just _tell _me," Faith emphatically urged. "You know I'm no good at reading your mind."

"Why am I not pregnant anymore?!" Buffy finally yelled. She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. Her body was screaming at her to do _something_. To fix this. To jump into action. But she didn't know what to _do_. She didn't know what could have possibly happened.

The confusion on Faith's face fell away to be replaced by sorrow. "Buffy…" she said gently, quietly. "We've been over this before, sweetheart. You…you miscarried."

Buffy blinked once. "No." The word tumbled past her teeth.

Faith's mouth twitched. What was going on with her girlfriend? Yesterday she'd been normal. What could have possibly happened over the night? She swallowed hard, preparing herself for the tale: "Remember, honey? It was the day of you and Preston's wedding. You left Preston at the church because some demons had taken over the Mall. One of them…they stabbed you in the stomach."

"Why are you telling me all of this!?" Buffy demanded angrily. "I remember. I was there. Of course I remember," she grit out. "You carried me out of the Mall and got me to the ambulance."

Faith nodded. "Right. And when we got to the hospital…" she trailed off. She looked away, not able to meet her girlfriend's expectant gaze. "It was too late," she said thickly. "The baby. The baby didn't make it."

Buffy blanched. "You're lying," she managed to choke out just before she rushed out of the room.

"No, Buffy," Faith said, full of remorse. "I wish I was, but I'm not."

"I'll prove it to you," Buffy bellowed. She abruptly turned on her heels and sprinted out of the bedroom.

"Buffy!" Faith called after the other woman.

Buffy stormed down the hallway towards the 3rd bedroom. Even though she was currently away at college, Dawn's things occupied the 2nd largest bedroom in the house, and the 3rd bedroom had previously served as storage and an office. Over the past few months, however, she and Faith had been converting the space into the baby's nursery since there was really no need for them to have an at-home office.

Buffy yanked down hard on the handle and flung the door open. She reached inside, fumbling for the light switch. When she found the toggle and the room was finally bathed in light, she fell to her knees, crippled by disbelief.

The walls were beige, not the cheerful yellow she'd painstakingly picked out for the nursery. In the far corner was a worn, wooden desk, not the large white crib they'd just assembled, decorated with green and blue cartoonish owls. The bookshelf that she remembered filling with all of her favorite picture books from her own childhood wasn't even put together – it lay in pieces in the center of the room. Cardboard boxes filled the space with words like "winter jackets" and "sweaters to donate" scrawled in black marker on the side. The mural of a large, sprawling tree that she and her friends had spent a weekend drawing and painting wasn't anywhere to be seen. In short, there was no evidence, not a single item in the room, to suggest this was ever going to be a nursery.

"I don't understand," Buffy choked out, blinded by tears.

She felt Faith's hand cup the curve of her bare shoulder. Her words did nothing to console or offer any explanation. "I know, baby. I know."

TBC


	3. Chapter 2: I'm Not Crazy

Buffy felt like the walls were closing in on her. There was a heavy weight pressing on her chest as if someone was sitting on her ribcage.

Faith quickly pulled a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water from the tap. "Here," she gently coaxed. "Drink."

Buffy grabbed the glass and drank its contents in giant gulps. When she reached the bottom of the glass, she was out of breath. "I can't just do nothing, Faith," she gasped. "This isn't right. Someone stole my baby."

The cup slipped from her hand and shattered against the title floor. Buffy looked down at the fragmented glass and then back up at her girlfriend. Faith's beautiful face was twisted into a guilty frown.

"What…" Buffy's knees buckled and she grabbed at the kitchen counter for stability. Her vision clouded and Faith's features looked overexposed like an Instagram print.

She slumped against the countertop, knocking a few objects to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, B." The words sounded muffled. She felt like someone had stuck cotton in her ears.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Buffy's eyes snapped open. Above her, in her direct line of sight, was the familiar whisper white ceiling of her bedroom. She abruptly sat up and was immediately punished for the sudden movement. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue thick and heavy as if she'd been wandering the desert for 40 days and nights.

She pressed her palm into her forehead, hoping to stem the sharp pain assaulting her frontal lobe. It was like someone was repeatedly stabbing the front of her brain with an ice pick. She'd experienced hangovers before, but this was a new sensation, wholly unpleasant.

She felt the mattress sink beside her.

"How are you feeling?" came Faith's voice, immediately concerned and repentant.

"What happened?" Buffy croaked out around a dry, swollen tongue.

A frown seemed to have taken permanent residency on Faith's face along with a deep crease between her eyebrows. "You, uh, were freaking out," she said hesitantly. "So I gave you something to calm you down."

Buffy blinked once, unbelieving. "You…you _drugged _me?" she asked incredulously.

Faith hung her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do," she sighed miserably. "Maybe I overreacted, but I've never seen you freak out like that before – not even when the Mouth of Hell was about to swallow you whole. I-I guess I panicked."

"How did you expect me to react?" Buffy demanded, her previous panic now replaced with anger. "Someone, some_thing_, stole my unborn child out of my womb!" She laid her palms against her flat stomach as if to emphasize her point.

Faith pressed her lips together, afraid to say anything more, but also not really knowing what to say. She had no idea what to do. She knew Buffy needed her support on this, but her girlfriend was wrong. There was no baby. Buffy hadn't been pregnant in a very long time.

"This thing with the baby, B," she said finally. "It's not right."

"I _know _it's not right. Which is why we shouldn't be wasting anymore time." Buffy threw back the covers on the bed, prepared to spring into action. "I've got to get out there. We've got to do research. We've got to find out who stole my baby!"

Faith placed a firm hand on her girlfriend's shoulder to calm her down and keep her from leaping out of bed. "See?" she said hoarsely. "It's that kind of attitude right there that's got me worried. You can't keep freaking out."

Buffy glared at the brunette. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child," she snapped, nostrils flaring. "I don't…I'm not…" The words stuck in her throat and she choked out a sob. "I don't know how to do this, Fai."

Faith took Buffy's hands in her own and stroked her thumbs along the tops of her hands. "I know, babe," she said gently. "And honestly, neither do I." She worried her bottom lip. "Maybe it's time you go back to seeing Dr. Lindquist?" she proposed.

Buffy sniffled loudly. She pulled a hand free from Faith's warm hold to wipe at her damp eyes. "Who?"

Faith's features looked tortured. _Why didn't Buffy remember any of this?_ "Your therapist," she said. "After the baby…didn't make it, you started seeing her. It seemed to help."

Buffy frowned. "What for? I'm not crazy."

"I know that," Faith sighed. She rubbed at her face. "But it's just nice to have a neutral party to talk to sometimes. Someone removed from the situation who's not going to judge."

Buffy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "When did you become such an advocate of psychotherapy?"

Faith shrugged. "Prison," she grunted.

"Oh."

Faith looked away, not wanting Buffy to see her like this. Despite how close they were, she hated anyone seeing her vulnerable. "I was resistant at first," she revealed, "but after a while, I guess I got used to it – sharing things with a stranger that I didn't want to admit even to myself."

Buffy was silent for a moment. "Is it weird that I'm kind of jealous of your prison shrink?"

Faith cocked an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"I just mean that they probably know more about you than I do," Buffy revealed sheepishly.

Faith licked her lips. "You're probably right," she admitted. "But that's not your fault. I haven't exactly been an open book."

"Do you think you might want to some day?" Buffy gently pressed. "Tell me things about your past? Tell me stories about when you were in prison? We never talk about that."

"I suppose that's cause I just wanna forget about that stuff," Faith admitted with a casual shrug. "Don't wanna pick at a scab just to make it bleed." She could see the disappointment written on her girlfriend's face. "But, uh, I'd bleed again for you, B."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't want your blood. If it's too hard…" she trailed off.

"No. I want you to know me," Faith insisted. "No sense pretending like the past didn't happen."

Buffy nodded solemnly. "Plus," she noted, "you wouldn't be the woman you are today if all that stuff hadn't happened."

Faith cracked a smile. "Yeah. I might actually be a normal, stable, functioning person."

Buffy brushed a few strands of hair away from her girlfriend's face. She ran her thumb along Faith's cheekbone. For the moment at least, the mystery and resulting panic about her missing baby wasn't the only thing on her radar. "Normal's overrated."

* * *

Buffy picked at the edge of the fabric-upholstered couch. She kept her eyes trained on her fingers and her nervous habit. The room was silent minus the measured ticking of a miniature grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

"How about I start us off today?"

Buffy shrugged her slender shoulders, but didn't look up.

"I think we should start with the elephant in the room. You've had a bit of a regression this week."

It wasn't posed as a question – just a fact. But Buffy felt compelled to respond.

"A _bit _of a regression?" she echoed in disbelief. Her voice held a hardened edge. She finally leveled her gaze for the first time since sitting down. "If that's a BIT, I'd hate to see your version of a full-blown backslide."

Buffy glared defiantly at her psychologist – the woman she had supposedly been confiding in for nearly half a year. Nothing about Dr. Lindquist felt threatening. In fact, Buffy had to admit the other woman was quite attractive. Despite the equally intimidating and impressive framed diplomas on the wall, the doctor looked not much older than Buffy. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun that could have looked severe, but on her looked very feminine. She wore minimal make-up, as it was unnecessary on her youthful features. Her smartly tailored button up blouse, tucked into a grey pencil skirt, was the kind of outfit Buffy wished she could wear if it weren't so impractical for slaying.

The only problem was, Buffy knew she'd never met this woman before.

Dr. Lindquist pursed her lips and removed her black-framed glasses. She carefully folded them closed and set them on the coffee table that separated her from her patient. "I'm sorry, Buffy," she genuinely apologized. "I don't mean to make light of this situation."

Buffy bit on her lower lip. She nodded glibly and dropped her gaze to the red fabric couch again.

"Let's try this again," the doctor gingerly tread. "This week has been hard."

Buffy snapped her head up to glare again.

"VERY hard," Dr. Lindquist self-corrected. "And it's my job to help you get through this confusion so you can get back to your life."

Buffy's hand absently floated to her abdomen, a movement that did not go unnoticed by her therapist. "I just don't understand," she murmured. "How could something like this happen?"

Buffy meant something else altogether, still not willing to even entertain the idea that her extended pregnancy had been a delusion of her mind. Thoughts of evil demons and meddling magical spells clouded her thoughts. Dr. Lindquist interpreted her resigned confusion differently.

"I think it bears recognizing that your baby would have gone full term at the end of this week," the doctor gently started. "Whether you consciously knew that or not, perhaps this is your body and brain's way of trying to cope with that fact - mourning the death of a child who should have been born later this week."

Buffy looked back down at her abdomen, hating how flat it looked beneath her top. She stroked her stomach, an action that felt as natural as breathing.

She couldn't talk to this woman. She couldn't tell her she believed everyone was under the influence of a spell. Not without sounding crazy and risking going to a psyche ward. Her child was depending on her. She couldn't save him or her from whatever evil had occurred from the inside of a padded cell. So instead, she did what she'd had to do once, long ago. She denied her truth.

"Maybe you're right," she croaked. She swallowed thickly. It was hard to get the words out. "I hadn't realized the due date was so near. That can't just be a coincidence."

Dr. Lindquist smiled warmly and settled back in her leather chair. "That's good, Buffy," she encouraged her patient. "It's healthy to keep an open mind. I know how hard this must be for you."

Buffy bit back the scathing words that erupted from her throat. _YOU KNOW NOTHING_, she thought. Catching herself still rubbing her belly, Buffy stopped and let her hand fall hack down by her side.

Dr. Lindquist scribbled something down on her pad of paper. "Why don't we end here for the day," she proposed. She stood and straightened the hem of her skirt. "Today was a good first step," she congratulated her patient. "But I don't want to push you too hard. We can talk more, later this week if you're available. You can make an appointment with Cindy out front." Her smile was warm and should have felt reassuring. Dr. Lindquist was apparently very good at her job.

Buffy stood as well and wiped her clammy palms on the thighs of her jeans. She gave her doctor a forced smile and left the office without another word.

* * *

Faith looked up from her magazine to see Buffy walking purposely toward her. She glanced at a wall clock in the therapist's front waiting room. "Done so soon?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Buffy grabbed her purse from a wall of hooks. "Yep. Let's go."

Faith scrambled to her feet and tossed the half-read magazine back on an end table to follow her hastily retreating partner. "Wait up!" she called. She finally caught up with Buffy at the elevator where the blonde woman waited for the lift to arrive.

Buffy looked cross and impatiently pressed the Down button repeatedly as if it would hasten the elevator's arrival.

Faith reached for Buffy's elbow. "What's wrong?" she pressed. "What's the hurry?"

"I just don't want to be here any longer than I have to," Buffy mumbled to the still-closed elevator doors. "This place makes my skin crawl."

Faith frowned, remembering how deliberate Buffy had been in choosing a psychiatrist. They'd visited practically every therapist office in Cleveland proper and even some of those in the suburbs.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival. The doors swished open and Buffy stepped in. "Are you coming?" she asked impatiently.

Faith nodded. She entered the elevator after Buffy. The blonde slayer forcefully pressed the button for the ground level and repeatedly jabbed at the 'Door Close' button.

"How…how did it go with your therapist?" Faith ventured to ask. She felt like she was dealing with a live grenade. She didn't know how to talk to Buffy. Communicating with the Chosen One had never been easy, but now it felt almost volatile, dangerous.

The door opened to the ground level and Buffy hustled out. Faith followed, lagging behind, and worrying what was wrong with her girlfriend.

"I don't want to come back here again," Buffy said stiffly as they walked outside to where Faith's car was parked.

"Why not? What happened?" Faith pressed, pausing to unlock the car doors. "Did Dr. Lindquist say or do something to upset you?"

Buffy frowned and considered Faith's question as she opened the passenger side door and slid into the car. "No, she was fine," she sighed. "It just…it brought up too many bad memories." She looked at her girlfriend, hazel green eyes wide. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't send me away to an asylum. I don't want to go there again," she rasped miserably.

Faith put the keys in the ignition, but at her girlfriend's words, she stopped short of turning on the car. Her features crumpled in confusion. "Again?" she echoed.

Buffy's eyes began to water. "Oh God," she sobbed. "I can't do this." Her hands went up to her face, and she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes sockets, hoping to block the flood she was sure was to follow. After a tense moment, and now sure she had her emotions in check, Buffy let her hands drop away from her face.

"Not soon after I was Called," she started with a shaky voice, "I burned down the high school gymnasium and was expelled from school. And my parents had me committed."

Faith's eyes went wide. "They did _what_?"

Buffy sighed and worried her hands on her lap. She absently stared out the passenger side window at the world outside, watching individuals and couples mill in and out of the non-descript office building where Dr. Lindquist's office was. She doubted the therapist would treat anyone that day whose psychosis surmounted her own. Her sudden burst of emotions had completely drained her, but she wanted, no _needed_, Faith to know how important her sanity was to her. She couldn't have people thinking she was crazy. Not again.

"Up until then I'd never done anything wrong – I was the perfect daughter. An okay student, popular, head cheerleader, and then something happened, and I wasn't that anymore. I told them about the vampires and how I was the Slayer. Of course they thought I'd gone crazy." She sighed, tiredly. "They only let me out of that place when I told them vampires weren't real."

"B, I'm so sorry." Faith reached out a tentative hand across the center consol as if to console the other woman, but pulled it back instead. Comfort was never her strong suit. "I didn't know," she said weakly.

"I'm _not _crazy, Faith." Buffy blinked back the tears that seemed to flow so easily lately. "I wasn't crazy when I said vampires crashed the school dance, and I'm not crazy now."

TBC


	4. Chapter 3: Little White Lie

Buffy moved her spoon around in her bowl of oatmeal, watching the mushy food slosh and slop around. She picked up the spoon and brought a mouthful to her mouth, but at the last second changed her mind and tipped its contents back into the bowl.

Faith folded the morning sports section in half and raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend. "You've played with your food more than you've actually eaten it."

Buffy heaved out a sigh and angrily shoved her bowl to the side. Some of the mush spilled over the top of the bowl and onto the kitchen island. "What's the point?" she said dejectedly. She dropped her head onto the countertop and breathed out miserably.

"A strong slayer needs her energy," Faith said lightly.

She chewed at her thumbnail and appraised the sullen woman. All she wanted was to cheer her up. She doubted if all the psychotherapy in the world would ever bring her girlfriend's smile back.

"Do you wanna, I don't know, get the gang together and do some research?"

Buffy lifted her head. Faith's heart ached when she recognized the hopeful glimmer in those hazel-green eyes.

"Are you serious?"

Faith averted her eyes. "Yeah, I mean, stranger things have happened to us, right?" She looked up, locking her gaze on Buffy's face. "Let's put out the call to the Scooby gang and figure this thing out."

Buffy blinked heard, her sight filling with tears. "So you believe me?" she rasped out, voice thick with emotion. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Baby," Faith consoled, her voice catching in her throat. "I never thought you were crazy." A strange smile tickled the corners of her generous mouth. "The only crazy thing you've ever done is date me."

At the words, Buffy leapt from her seat and crashed into her girlfriend's arms. She wrapped herself tight around the other slayer. "You don't know what this means to me," she said, pressing her face against the other woman's neck.

Faith closed her eyes and breathed out shallowly, just enjoying the closeness, but also aching at the telltale wetness she felt against her skin, knowing the source of Buffy's pain. "You go take a shower, and I'll call up the gang, okay?"

Instead of getting up, Buffy settled herself more comfortably onto Faith's lap. She wrapped her arms around the brunette's shoulders and pulled her tight, their foreheads touching. "Are you saying I stink?"

Faith nuzzled her nose into the hollow of Buffy's throat, pulling a quiet, approving hum from the blonde. "The sooner you get ready for the day, the sooner we can crack open those books."

Buffy pulled back slightly. "Who'd have ever thought I'd get excited for books?" she quipped, smiling for the first time in days.

"Certainly not your teachers," Faith cracked back.

Buffy hopped off her partner's lap and gave Faith a quick peck on the lips. "Want to shower together and conserve water?" she offered.

Faith wet her lips and gave her girlfriend a languid once-over. "Stop distracting me, woman. I've got a Super Team of friends to assemble."

"I'm just trying to eliminate my carbon footprint," Buffy said, batting her eyelashes. With another playful grin, she practically skipped out of the kitchen in the direction of the bathroom.

Faith remained perched on her stool by the kitchen island, a little befuddled by Buffy's abrupt mood-swing. She stayed there until she heard the water turn on in the other room. Then, she retrieved her cell phone and found one of the only numbers she'd programmed into the thing. She pressed the call button and waited until someone picked up the other line.

"Hey, Will? We've got a problem…"

* * *

"I brought donuts!"

Faith looked up from her giant, dusty tome to see Xander swoop into the Magic Store II holding a flimsy, white bakery box.

"Sugar!" Kennedy cheered from her location at one of the large wooden circular tables in the center of the retail space. "Just what the doctor ordered." She hopped up from her chair and crowded Xander, immediately tearing into the box he held in his hands and producing a particularly sugar-infused breakfast pastry. She shoved the donut into her mouth. "I love slayer metabolism," she crowed with her mouth full.

After Buffy had exited her shower, which had disappointingly been solo, Faith had informed her that she'd contacted Willow, Kennedy, and Xander to meet that day at the Magic Shop II for some good old-fashioned research. They'd been at it already for a few hours without any leads. Buffy, however, was not going to let herself get easily discouraged. This was her baby. She would do what it took. Even if that meant actually reading and not pretending like she usually did when they formed these research parties.

Buffy nudged Willow with her elbow like a high-school student looking for the answers to a pop-quiz. "Find anything yet?" she asked her closest friend.

Willow looked up from her book and rubbed at her eyes. "Nothing yet, no. I mean, we're looking for a pretty specific spell or demon, Buff. It's gonna take time." She cast her eye across the age-yellowed page. "I've found a few references to baby-eaters and child kidnappings for demonic rituals, but nothing about stealing babies that haven't been born yet."

"Oh." A small frown crept onto Buffy's face, but it was soon replaced by a look of determinism. "Well, we'll just have to keep looking."

Faith did her best to catch the Wicca's attention. The two shared a knowing look across the table and a discouraging frown.

"Is anybody else starving?" Faith announced. "I don't think donuts are gonna quite do it for me."

"Xander, would you mind picking up some more brain food at the corner deli?" Willow asked. "Just some sandwiches and snacks?"

The man set the donut box on an empty table and gave the redhead a mock salute. "It would be my pleasure." He crisply turned on his heel like a well-trained soldier and pushed back out into the Cleveland sun.

Buffy sighed and looked out at the mountain of ancient books spread out on the research tables. "Will, is this all the books we have? I thought I remember there being more."

"This is most of it," Willow said, frowning. "I know it's pretty meager," she said apologetically. "We really couldn't rescue much from the crater formerly known as Sunnydale, and the Watchers' Council's resources were mostly blown up by the First's Harbingers."

"I think I saw a few other books in the basement," Kennedy chimed in. "They're with all the other stuff we haven't unpacked yet from the big move."

Buffy hopped to her feet. "I'll go get them."

Kennedy stood as well. "I'll help," she offered, stretching out her stiff limbs. "My eyes are starting to cross from all this reading."

Faith watched in amusement as the mismatched slayers noisily jostled each other as they tromped down the stairs to the basement. Good-natured taunts about who could carry up the biggest box of books carried up from the sublevel floor. Faith smiled to herself. After a few tumultuous days, everything felt like it was back to normal – except for this giant cloud hovering above her head.

She released a heaving sigh and closed another giant book with an impressive clap. "I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be able to keep this up, Red," she announced.

Willow didn't look up from her reading. "You should taking reading breaks," she murmured. "This old typeface can be brutal on the eyesight if you're not used to it."

"That's not what I mean," Faith said, features hardening. "I don't think I can keep lying to Buffy."

Willow looked up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. "You love her, right?"

"Of course," Faith immediately snapped. The very notion that Willow might think she didn't love Buffy with all her heart instinctively made her bristle. She wondered if she and the Wicca would ever truly become friends and not just awkward acquaintances trying not to kill each other for the sake of the Chosen One.

Willow stared down the dark-haired slayer. "Then you do this as long as it takes."

Faith scratched at her neck. "It doesn't feel right though. Will pretending we believe her about this fetus-kidnapping business really help her get better?" she reasonably questioned. "Or will it just enable this delusion of hers and make her worse?"

Willow sighed and pushed the book she had been pretending to pore over to the side. "I know. And I've thought about that, too," she said. "But you know how Buffy is –if you're not supporting her, you're against her."

Faith nodded and looked grim. "Don't I know it." Her face clouded over. "And I feel so goddamn selfish because I know this is destroying her, but I just want my girlfriend back. I want her back the way things used to be."

Willow nodded sagely. "It's going to take some time. We just have to be patient. And even if she doesn't give up on this, some Hellmouth-y problem is sure to pop up and we'll be forced to move on."

Faith frowned. "It's bad that I'm hoping for an apocalypse, right?"

A smile tugged at Willow's lips. "It's only human."

Faith tipped back in her wooden chair, and she nearly toppled over when she noticed the long shadow cast on the floor. Her dark eyes widened when she saw the owner of the shadow. "How-how long have you been standing there?"

Buffy stood in the doorway that led to the basement stairs. She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides, the knuckles going white from the tension. "Long enough," she said bitterly. "I just came back up to see if you had a flashlight. It's too dark down there to read the labels on the shipping boxes."

Faith returned all four legs of her chair to the ground and her mouth opened and closed a few times like a gaping fish. "B…I –."

Buffy held up her hand. "Stop. Just stop," she ordered. "I've had enough lies from you to last a lifetime."

Even though she and Faith still weren't the best of friends, Willow couldn't stand back and let the Boston slayer take the brunt of the blame. "Buffy, we didn't do this to hurt you," she attempted to assuage her friend. "We want to help you, we do; but all the research in the world isn't going to bring your baby back."

Buffy's features sharpened at the sound of her best friend's voice. "I can't believe you betrayed me, too."

The ice in Buffy's tone caused the Wicca to duck her head in retreat.

Buffy wiped at her damp eyes and inhaled sharply. "I thought you believed me," she said in a voice not much more than a whisper. "You said you were going to help."

Faith hung her head as well. "Buffy," she whispered back.

"No," Buffy cut her off. "No more excuses." She swallowed hard, shoving down her emotions. "You were right about one thing," she said, straightening her shoulders. The two contrite women looked up. "If you're not with me, you're against me."

* * *

Faith turned the key in its lock and released a shaky sigh of relief when it worked – apparently Buffy hadn't changed the locks. She knew her girlfriend was a fan of melodramatic gestures, and locking her out of the house seemed a very Buffy-like thing to do. Her clothes weren't strewn across the front yard either, so maybe she wasn't completely in the doghouse.

The front of the house was dark and silent as she let herself in.

"B?" she called out into the darkness. "Baby?"

She turned on the light in the front foyer. Buffy's fall jacket was missing from its wall peg and her slaying boots were suspiciously absent from the careful line of shoes that habitually resided in the front hallway.

A yellow post-it note was attached to the full-length mirror just inside the house. Faith snatched it off the mirrored pane and quickly read Buffy's recognizable handwriting.

"Shit."

* * *

"So maybe this wasn't the _best _idea I've ever had."

Buffy clutched her wooden stake tighter and eyeballed the three vampires currently circling her like sharks in bloodied water. They smacked their lips and snarled animalistically as if sensing the slayer's unease.

The smallest, but apparently quickest and dumbest, of the trio launched himself at the blonde. She blocked the first flying foot that came alarmingly close to her head, but didn't move fast enough to avoid the closed fist to her gut. The air was forced out of her lungs and she grunted, stumbling back. The small vampire continued his exuberant assault, but the wooden stake that slid through his dead flesh and into his unbeating heart ended him just like the countless others before him.

Her body, normally so in sync, alarmingly felt like a stranger to her – as if she hadn't used these muscles in months. She was sweaty and out of breath. It felt infinitely foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so tired – minus her 18th birthday. She mentally shook herself. That's not what was happening here. There was another reason behind her current fatigue.

Two vampires remained and Buffy sized them up. "Who's next?" she breathed out shakily.

One of the remaining vampires glanced quickly between the Chosen One and the anthill of dust that used to be his friend. "Fuck this," he swore before sprinting off across the cemetery and out of sight.

Buffy breathed a little easier. That just left one more to go before she could call it a night and crawl into bed. But, unfortunately, the vampire who remained was the biggest one she'd ever seen. She'd never even seen a_ human_ so tall, let alone a vampire. She craned her neck looking up; he had to be at least 7 feet tall. _Maybe he used to play for the Cleveland Cavaliers_, she mused to herself.

Momentarily forgetting her life-and-death situation, she felt a surge of pride that she knew the name of her town's home basketball team. She had Faith to thank for that. Even though she'd been a cheerleader in a past life, that didn't mean she knew anything about sports. But even though she'd traded in her cheerleading skirt for slaying so many years ago, she still had a killer high kick.

Which is what she did next. But even with jumping and extending her leg high in the air, she only connected with the undead giant's broad chest. The impact forced the lumbering vampire a foot backwards, but not enough for Buffy to have gained the upper-hand.

The giant vampire cocked back a clenched, meaty fist before connecting with Buffy's face. Her head violently snapped back at impact. It felt like her lower jaw completely unhinged before painfully snapping back into place. She shook her head back and forth and clawed at the tweeting birds that seemed to be fluttering around her head.

_Hello, concussion_, she mentally greeted.

Not allowing the slayer to regain her bearings, the undead creature swung another wild fist in her direction. It too found its mark. Buffy winced, feeling a few ribs give way to the violent blow. Another strike met its intended target – Buffy's head again. Instead of birds, this time she saw bright, white stars. Her knees gave out and her body crumpled to the ground.

_So much for going out with a bang_, she fleetingly thought.

She opened her mouth to scream out one final protest. Her body tensed as she prepared for the pointed teeth about to sink into her vulnerable flesh, when a shower of ash hit her in the face. The spray of dust was nearly as unexpected as the warm body that unceremoniously dumped on top of her.

Buffy shoved the figure off her and started to cough and spit. "Thanks," she said sourly. She sat up and continued to choke up vampire ash.

"Hey, you were the one with your mouth open," Faith pointed out. "I was just trying to save your ass."

"Well, I'm sorry," Buffy crossly spat. She stood up abruptly, her body tight with anger and embarrassment. "I was too busy fighting for my life to worry about a detail like that."

Faith's features softened. "What happened?" She stood up, slower than her slaying counterpart had and brushed at the bits of fall leaves clinging to her clothes. "I've never seen a regular old vampire get the upper-hand on you like that."

"That was hardly a regular old vampire," Buffy scoffed. "Did you see how big he was?"

"Yeah, but you're tiny," Faith noted with a small, playful smile. She was relieved she'd shown up just in time, but didn't want to let on how concerned she was. "Everyone's bigger than you."

"I'm just a little rusty," Buffy complained defensively. She patted at the arms of her denim jacket and clouds of dusty ash formed.

"Rusty?" Faith echoed. "We've been patrolling practically every night this month."

Buffy shot her girlfriend a look. "Tell that to my body," she snarled. "It seems to think I was on an 8-month vacation. Try telling me that's just a coincidence," she challenged.

"Buffy…"

"Please don't start. It's been a long day," Buffy said tiredly. "Just so you know," she continued stiffly, "I'm going to stay with Xander for a few days. I just…I need some space right now."

"Xander?" Faith blinked as if the name didn't register in her head. "You…you don't want me around? Are we breaking up?"

"I'm not breaking up with you," Buffy said quietly. "I just need some time."

Faith closed her eyes and shook her head, keeping the stinging, salty tears at bay. "Don't be ridiculous. It's your house, and I'm the one who fucked up," she gruffly stated. "You shouldn't have to leave. _I'll _stay with Xander."

Buffy frowned deeply. "I don't think his girlfriend would be too happy about that."

"She'll be fine," Faith waved it off. "If she's jealous, that's her deal. Cause not to be crude, but it's not like I've driven stick for a couple of years now."

Buffy sighed. She didn't want to keep fighting. "Fine."

Faith chewed on her lower lip. "I want to believe you, B. I really do," she said emphatically. "But sometimes the truth is the simplest answer." She paused, licking her lips. "I mean, an evil demon stealing your baby out of your womb certainly isn't the _weirdest _thing you've ever dealt with…but isn't it more likely that…" She made a pained face. She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"When the monks made Dawn, they changed everyone's memories," Buffy stubbornly pointed out. "Even yours, and you weren't even in Sunnydale."

Faith frowned at the validity of Buffy's statement. "I know, babe. But _why?_ Why would anyone want to do this to you?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Buffy countered shrilly. "Look how someone stole Connor from Angel."

"Yeah, but Angel's kid was all mystical and shit. Vampire baby, remember? But you and Preston…"

Buffy's features pinched. "My baby might not have been born with a destiny to fulfill, and magic powers and a prophecy, but it's still _my baby_."

Faith pressed her lips together. Northing she could say, short of lying again to Buffy, was going to make this situation any better.

"I'm not going to give up on this," Buffy said with emotion. "I'm not going to just let this go. I carried my baby for nearly 9 months. _Those _are my memories," she said heatedly. "Regardless of what's implanted in _your _brain, that is_ my _truth."

Faith nodded sadly. "I know." She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. She kicked awkwardly at a stray pinecone and missed. "So where does that leave us?"

The fire in Buffy's hazel-green eyes seemed to extinguish and her features deflated. "I don't know," she admitted sadly. "I love you, but I don't know."

Faith's face tightened into a grimace. "I'll go home and pack a bag. I don't want to make this any harder on you than it already is." She paused. "I'm not…I'm not abandoning you or running away," she reassured the other woman. "You'll know where I am when you figure out what you need from me."

Faith stood for a moment longer, just staring at Buffy. When it was obvious the conversation was over, she flipped up the collar of her leather jacket to stave off a sudden brisk wind. She shoved her hands back into her coat pockets and walked off into the shadows.

Buffy watched Faith walk away without a word of complaint or protest. When the Boston slayer was completely out of sight, she kicked at a tombstone in frustration. She was furious with Faith and hurt that her partner still didn't believe her. After all they'd been through together, why was this so hard for her to believe to be true?

Faith was right though; it would be too hard to be around her right now because of this recent betrayal. The wound was too fresh. But even though she needed space, she still wanted Faith there. Even though she was furious and wounded, and Faith was part of the reason for it, she also knew that Faith's presence would be the solution to her pain.

And although Faith had done and said all the right things in allowing her the space and time she needed, it certainly _did _feel like being abandoned.

TBC


	5. Chapter 4: The Boy Who Cried Wolf

_Suggested Listening: "I'm Through" – Ingrid Michaelson_

Buffy fidgeted nervously with a breadstick. She felt horrible. She felt physically ill. She felt like she was cheating just being there. But she had no one else to turn to, she had reasoned to herself, no other allies in the city who might still believe and help her. Her friends, and most painfully, even Faith, had betrayed her in this. She still couldn't understand it though – after all they'd been through together, was it really so difficult to believe some evil thing had stolen her child from her uterus?

It had been nearly a week since she'd asked for some time and space from Faith. The dark-haired slayer had obeyed her request and apparently was holed up with Xander, much to his girlfriend's chagrin, she was sure. Faith was enough to make anyone jealous, male or female, straight or gay.

She and Faith had talked once on the phone since their cemetery split and had run into each other another time while on patrol. Both events had been awkward, forced, and disconcerting. Faith had been penitent and acted as though Buffy was made out of glass. Both actions had done nothing to repair what had been broken.

Since the fake research party, Buffy had stayed clear of not only her girlfriend, but also her closest friends. Just thinking about that day made her angry and not a little bit embarrassed. In the meantime she'd been busy doing research on her own. It made her head ache; she wasn't the researching type. But, she was hopeful that she'd soon stumble across something. There was no such thing as the perfect crime. She'd find out the truth eventually. Her sanity depended on it.

Buffy looked down at the tablecloth and grimaced. She'd totally destroyed the breadstick. Hunks of soft bread littered the tabletop. She hastily grabbed the complimentary breadbasket and brushed the chunks back into the basket with the other uneaten rolls.

She looked up when she felt a body looming over the small table for two.

"I always loved how you're not afraid of carbs. You're not like other women."

Preston slid into the vacant seat across from Buffy. "But I suppose that should have made me suspicious right away."

Buffy offered her ex-fiancé an uneasy smile. Preston had been an active participant throughout her pregnancy, going to doctor's appointments with her when Faith couldn't make it, helping her pick out (and pay) for supplies for the nursery. However, she didn't want to assume that in this reality, where she'd apparently had a miscarriage, that she was still close-friends with her ex. But she still had to try.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said with genuine appreciation.

Preston unrolled his silverware and placed the napkin on his lap. He'd always had perfect manners. It was one of the things Buffy had noticed about him right away on their first dates. "Well you know I love Italian food," he grinned easily. "….and you."

Buffy flushed and looked down at her lap.

"I'm sorry," Preston hastily retreated. "Sometimes I talk without thinking first. I'm not naïve enough to think that's why you called me."

Buffy looked up and shook her head. "You're right. That's not why I called."

Preston winced. "Well, can't blame a guy for trying," he chuckled. "How _is _Faith, by the way?"

"She's good," Buffy said curtly before grabbing her water glass and chugging down its contents. She refrained herself from telling Preston that things were tense between she and her partner. He didn't need those kind of details; it would only give him false hope.

Their waiter thankfully stopped by to take their drink order. Preston ordered a glass of merlot for himself and quirked an eyebrow when Buffy ordered an ice tea.

"No alcohol tonight?" he questioned when the waiter walked away. "You're not…you and Faith aren't…_expecting_, are you?"

Buffy worried her bottom lip. She'd gotten so use to not drinking alcohol during her pregnancy the order had come out without much thought. "That's kind of why I wanted to see you."

"You're pregnant? How far along are you?" Preston asked excitedly. "You're so small, I couldn't even tell. _Mazel tov!"_

"No, no. I'm not _currently _pregnant," Buffy clarified. "And that's kind of the problem."

Confusion settled over Preston's classically handsome face. "Wait. Do you want me to donate sperm or something?"

Buffy held up her hands. "Oh my God, no," she hastily negated. "That's not what this is about."

Relief passed over Preston's face. "Thank God," he breathed. He leaned back in his chair, more relaxed. "I love you and I'm happy that you're happy, even if it's not with me…but that would have been _way _too weird for me," he admitted with a short chuckle.

Buffy bit her lip. "Well, what I'm about to tell you may be a little weird, too," she conceded.

"Oh?"

Buffy hesitated. She looked around at the other restaurant patrons, jealous of their obliviousness. Was this really the best venue for this conversation? She mentally checked her courage. Just tell him. Find out how he's going to react.

"Preston," Buffy began slowly, "I called you to meet with me tonight because…because I need your help. I don't believe I had a miscarriage," she announced. She didn't wait for his reaction. "I think a demon stole our baby from my womb a few days ago and implanted fake memories into everyone's brains to make them believe I lost the baby when I was stabbed." She sucked in a breath. And waited.

Across the small table, Preston blinked. Twice. "Can they…" He looked around tentatively and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Can demons _do _that?"

Buffy leaned back in her chair and let out a small sigh of relief. At least he hadn't immediately called her crazy and thrown his drink in her face. It was a start.

"I've experienced something like it before," she confirmed. "My sister…" Buffy hesitated. Should she, _could _she, tell this man her secrets when just months before she'd been prepared to marry him without even telling him she was a slayer?

"My sister isn't really my sister," Buffy began with some trepidation. "A few years ago some monks came to me. They turned a key into a person – well, not a physical key, like one you'd put in a door lock. Well, I take that back. The Key _did _open a door, but it was actually a portal to another dimension – a Hell-like dimension that, if opened, would have spilled into our world and destroyed it. The monks had the key – it was this green orb of energy at first and then they turned it into my sister to protect it. Only, I'm an only child," she said, gulping down a long breath, "so they changed everyone's memories so they would remember Dawn always being my sister when really she's only existed for a few years."

Preston opened his mouth to respond, but Buffy kept going. It was verbal vomit at its finest. Once she'd shared Dawn's secret, they were all spilling out

"Oh, and then these three nerds, who called themselves the Trio, which, side-note is like the _lamest _evil name ever, conjured a demon to poison me and make me thinking I'd been committed to an insane asylum. Only, it was really confusing for me because I really had been hospitalized, but that had been years ago when I'd first been Called as a Slayer and my parents were scared of me. But I got out after I pretended that vampires and demons didn't exist, but this demon's venom made me believe I'd _never_ gotten out of that asylum and I was still there, living out Sunnydale as a fantasy world in my head. But then I hate the demon's heart and I got better."

The awe and wonder that had so recently occupied Preston's face clouded over. "So your sister is a green ball of energy and your parents had you committed?"

Buffy nodded. "That's the shorthand version of it, yes. But I wasn't committed because of the Dawn thing. This was years earlier when I'd burned down my high school gym."

Preston visibly paled. "You _burned _down the Sunnydale gymnasium?"

"Oh, no. That was at my old school in LA," Buffy said flippantly. "Actually, I blew up the _entire _school in Sunnydale on the day of my high school graduation. The Mayor had turned into a giant snake."

Preston pulled his napkin from his lap and gently laid it on the table. "I don't believe you," he said quietly.

"Which part?"

"Any of it!" Preston suddenly exploded. "If all of these things were true, wouldn't the rest of the world know about it?"

"It's hiding in plane sight." Buffy frowned. "But people blindly ignore what's right in front of their face."

"How can you expect me to sit here and swallow your _lies_, Buffy? Is this all a game to you?" He swung his head around as if on a swivel. "Are your friends hiding behind plants again, waiting to rub in my face what a _fool _I've been again?"

"Preston, no! I—"

"Don't. Just stop, Buffy," Preston sourly clipped. He carefully stood to his full height. Buffy could see how his body shook with quiet rage. "Don't think for a minute that my world wasn't completely _crushed _when you lost the baby. I can't believe you could be this cruel."

Large, salty tears ran down Buffy's cheeks. "I'm not lying to you, I promise," she croaked. "I know I hid the fact that I'm a slayer from you, but I'm not lying about this! Someone stole our baby," she insisted with quiet emotion, "and I'm going to get it back."

"No, Buffy. Our baby died months ago." Preston pushed his chair under the table and its legs scraped noisily against the tiled floor. His fingers clenched and unclenched against the top of his chair. "You need help. You need to move on. And ironically," he noted with a strange smile on his lips, "thanks to this meeting, I can finally move on, too."

Buffy watched as the man who would have been her husband slowly stalked away. He paused at the front door momentarily before pushing it open and walking out into the Cleveland night.

Buffy brought her napkin to her lips and choked back a sob. Preston had been her last gasping attempt to convince someone that she wasn't crazy.

Their waiter ambled up next to her. "Uh, ma'am?" he questioned awkwardly. Buffy was sure he had witnessed at least part of the emotional blow out. "Can I get you anything else?"

Buffy steeled herself. She'd been through worse, she told herself. Hell, she'd _died _twice. She could hand this, too. "No, thank you," she said in a calm voice foreign to her ears. "Just the check.

* * *

Buffy turned off the bathtub faucet, stripped out of her bathrobe, and sank her weary body into the steaming bath. She gave a small, tired sigh as the warm water swallowed her whole. Tiny waves lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as she settled in.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. With her ears submerged, all she could hear was the rhythmic pumping of her heart and the tiny echo of water dripping from the stopped faucet. Her hands instinctively went to her flat abdomen, which just barely poked out of the shallow bathwater.

She ran the tips of her fingers across the raised, angry, red scar – her parting gift for saving the Cleveland Mall from a demon invasion many months ago. She had once pointed out to Faith that they now had something else in common besides slaying – matching abdominal wounds. It often amazed her, and she had to admit she was more than a little proud, that after more than a decade of slaying, her body was relatively unmaimed.

She sat up and reached outside of the tub to dry off her hands on a nearby towel. She gingerly picked up her phone, which she had placed nearby, careful not to get it damp, and called the only number she knew by heart. She didn't expect Faith to pick up – she was probably on patrol – but it would be nice just to hear the other slayer's recorded voice on her voicemail message.

"Hey, B."

Buffy nearly dropped her phone in the tub when Faith answered.

Across town, Faith sat on Xander's pull-out futon. After an uneventful evening of patrol, she'd called it an early night. A cold shower and half a large pizza later, she felt anything but settled. When her phone had rung and she saw Buffy's goofy face light up her phone, she tried to remain calm. It did nobody any good, she reasoned, to come off as too eager or concerned by the unexpected phone call.

"Oh, uh, hi," Buffy stammered. She had been mentally prepared to hang up after listening to Faith's voicemail, not actually to talk. "What-what are you doing?"

"Reading a book."

"But you hate books," Buffy pointed out. It was one thing they could agree on. Books were evil.

"You know me, B. I'm a masochist." Buffy could practically hear the shrug over the phone. "So what's up? To what do I owe this unexpected, but totally appreciated call?"

Buffy inspected her fingers, which had begun to prune. "I'm taking a bath."

"Uh oh. That's never a good sign." Faith quipped. Experience told her Buffy only took baths when she was feeling sorry for herself. "What's wrong?"

"Besides the obvious?" Buffy said without heat.

"Yeah." Faith rubbed at her face. "Besides the obvious."

"I had dinner with Preston tonight," Buffy revealed. "Well actually, there wasn't a lot of _dinner_ involved. More like I shredded a breadstick and he stormed out on me and left me with the bill for his wine."

"So it wasn't a good date," Faith deadpanned.

"It wasn't a _date_, Fai," Buffy grunted, reflexively returning to the shortened name.

"Uh huh," Faith said, slightly bristled. Her brain told her she had no reason to be jealous of Buffy meeting up with Preston, but she couldn't help how she felt. She was a naturally jealous and possessive being. "So why'd you meet up with him?" she pressed, hoping Buffy couldn't actually hear her jealousy.

Buffy frowned. "I thought maybe he'd believe me about the baby."

"I'm guessing it didn't go well."

Buffy breathed in sharply. "No. It didn't." She cleared her throat, the words getting caught in her windpipe. "He didn't believe me."

"Did you think he really would?" Faith asked gently.

"I don't know what I thought would happen," Buffy admitted. "But I needed to try, I guess."

"Are you okay?"

"He said I was a liar," Buffy said. Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes and she felt her resolve start to crumble. "Baby," she sobbed, "he called me _crazy_." She was no longer in control of her emotions. "He said I needed help."

Faith sucked in a deep breath. It killed her to hear the woman she loved so distraught, knowing there was little she could do. She hated the general feeling of helplessness and uselessness, but it was especially poignant when it came to Buffy. She gripped her phone and listened to Buffy try, unsuccessfully, to swallow back her sobs. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes."

The brunette's stomach fluttered. "Even though I messed up, and I know you're still upset with me?"

"I'm just being stubborn and punishing myself," Buffy said wetly. "I never should have made you leave. I need you."

"Give me 15 minutes and I'll be there."

Buffy sighed and sank a little deeper into the tub. "I love you."

A small, hopeful smile tugged at Faith's generous mouth. Maybe she hadn't messed things up entirely. "I love you, too."

* * *

When she heard the crisp knock at her front door, Buffy, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, padded down the long hallway. Without bothering to look through the front window to see who was at the door, she unlocked the deadbolt and flung the door open. She quirked an eyebrow at the woman standing on her front porch.

"Is there something wrong with your key?"

"No." Faith uneasily shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "But I felt funny using it."

Buffy frowned. "You still live here, Fai. This is your house just as much as it is mine."

Faith nodded. "Okay." She stepped through the front threshold and was greeted by the familiar smells and warmth of Buffy's ranch-style suburban home. She sucked in a sharp breath, not taking anything for granted.

Faith took a moment while she shrugged out of her jacket to regard her girlfriend. The blonde's damp hair looked freshly brushed, the lines from her wide-toothed comb still visible. Her hair slightly curled up at the ends where it was beginning to air dry. Her pajamas looked too big for her small frame, as if she'd shrunk several sizes since they'd last seen each other.

"Can we go to bed?" Buffy whimpered as Faith hung up her jacket. "I'm exhausted."

Faith choked back an emotion that felt a lot like guilt. "Lead the way," she said.

Buffy laced her fingers in Faith's and led her down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom. Faith looked down at their enjoined fingers. Buffy's hand seemed so small and fragile in her own. Everything about the Chosen One currently felt vulnerable, like she was a delicate porcelain doll just waiting to shatter.

She could only hope that when that moment happened, she'd be able to piece together her girlfriend again.

TBC


	6. Chapter 5: It's All Unraveling

**A/N: Thanks to everyone still sticking with this story. The end of every semester is hectic, so thanks for your patience between updates. **

**I've also just published a collection of original short stories starring lesbian characters, so if you're interested, more details are available at my Author Page here. Happy reading!**

* * *

Faith opened her eyes and stretched. A warm glow permeated the bedroom's thin drapes, signaling a rare, sunshine-filled day. She'd never experienced such a damp Fall season since moving to the Midwest. Boston was cold, but she'd never had need of an umbrella until they'd relocated to the Cleveland Hellmouth. The Midwest was not at all how she'd imagined it. For one, the amount of aboveground pools had been a surprise.

She flopped an arm out in the bed, reaching for her girlfriend, but found that the space beside her was vacant. The sheet felt cool to the touch, indicating Buffy had gotten up hours ago.

Faith frowned. It wasn't unusual that she woke up to an empty bed – Buffy was far more of a morning person than her and tended to get up while Faith slept through the early morning. But she felt disappointed that her girlfriend had left her on her own considering everything they'd been dealing with lately.

"Buffy?" she called out loudly. She waited a moment before trying again. "Buffy?" she said in a much louder voice. The sleep immediately rattled from her vocal chords.

But the rest of the house remained silent.

With a heaving sigh, she threw the blankets off and pulled herself out of bed. She padded down the hallway to the kitchen, expecting to find her girlfriend, or at least a pot of coffee brewed. The kitchen, like the coffee machine, however, was empty. She looked around for signs of Buffy, but found none – no left behind notes stuck on mirrors either to let her know where Buffy might have gone.

Faith called her partner's cell phone, but Buffy's phone vibrated on the kitchen island next to her. She stared at the buzzing phone that rattled with the unanswered call. Wherever Buffy had gone, she'd left behind her phone. Feeling a sense of foreboding, she dialed Willow next.

"Hey," she said, not waiting for the redhead to even say hello. "Have you seen Buffy this morning?"

"Hello to you too, Faith," Willow chuckled across town from the apartment above the Magic Shop she shared with Kennedy. "No. I haven't seen her in a few days. Not since that ugly thing at the Magic Shop. Why?"

"I can't find her." Faith ran her fingers through her lose hair, a nervous habit she'd picked up years ago. Lately it seemed like she was doing it more and more. "I woke up and she was gone," she revealed in a raspy voice. "She left her phone at the house, too."

"I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about," Willow said dismissively. "She hardly ever has her phone on her; I don't know why she insisted on getting one. She probably just went to get coffee or went for a run or something."

Faith blew out a deep breath, disturbing the hair that framed her face. "Yeah. You're probably right," she grunted. "I'm just feeling jumpy because of the baby thing, I guess."

She heard Willow's muffled voice talking to someone else – Kennedy she suspected. _Buffy's missing_, she heard the redhead tell whomever else was there with her. The two words caused Faith's stomach to twist unpleasantly.

"Seriously, Faith." Willow's voice came back, clear and strong. "How much trouble could Buffy get into?"

Faith stared at the screen of Buffy's neglected phone and at the one missed call. "That's what I'm worried about."

* * *

Buffy pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and peered around. For a self-identified shop-a-holic, she didn't know why this was such a big deal to her. But she hadn't been so nervous about shopping since that one time Faith had challenged her to go into a sex toy store by herself.

Working at the front register of the store was an angular woman with long brown hair that she wore pulled back in a half ponytail. Her rectangular glasses were perched low on her nose. She hadn't looked up from her book, an ancient-looking tome with yellowed pages, even when Buffy had first entered the store. She looked very much like a librarian, which Buffy supposed was appropriate since she was in a used bookstore.

Buffy stood before the store's solo employee. The gold nametag pinned to her powder blue cardigan read, "Aimee." Buffy cleared her throat. "Do you, um, have any books on, uh," she stumbled embarrassingly, "_magic?_"

The mousy brunette didn't look up from her book. "Check the 'Hobbies' section," she said, turning a crisp page. "Or we might have an autobiography of David Copperfield in the non-fiction section."

Buffy frowned at the unhelpful woman. "That's not what I meant."

The shop girl, Aimee if her nametag was authentic, dramatically sighed and put her book down. She reached for a thick bookmark and carefully, painstakingly placed it in the inner binding of her book before snapping the cover shut. When her eyes reached Buffy's face, however, her annoyance quickly rolled away to reveal surprise. "Wh-what did you mean then?" she asked, wide, blue-grey, owlish eyes blinking.

Buffy furtively looked around. She knew it was silly – she and this woman were alone in the shop. There was no one to overhear their conversation. "I'm interested in, I guess, the occult?" she said, visibly wincing at the word. "The Wiccan kind of magic," she clarified, "not pulling rabbits out of hats."

Aimee sat forward on her stool, looking even more eager than before. Her hands pressed flat on the glass display case in front of her. "What _color_ of magic might you be interested in?"

"Color?" Buffy questioned. Her eyebrows furrowed together. "I'm not picky. I'm not racist or anything."

Aimee laughed, seemingly completely charmed by the Chosen One's naïve response. "No, I just meant are you looking for information on White or Black magic?"

"Oh." Buffy sucked in a sharp breath. This was turning out to be more complicated than she'd originally thought. She didn't even know what kind of spell she was looking for. She should have just asked Willow for help, but for now she wanted to continue looking for a solution on her own.

"To be honest, we don't have that big of a collection here," Aimee said apologetically. "But there's a store on Main Street called the Magic Shop. I haven't been there yet, but I bet you'd have better luck shopping there."

"I can't, I mean, I'd rather not go there." Buffy chewed on her lower lip.

Aimee shifted her sweater on her boney shoulders, as if rearranging her worldview. "I don't want to be nosy, but what exactly do you need magic for?"

At the question, Buffy dropped her gaze to the glass display case. Beneath the thick pane of glass were various books whose titles she unsurprisingly didn't recognize. She wondered what about a book could make it valuable enough to warrant the locked case. "I lost something," she finally said vaguely. "And I really need to get it back."

"My grandmother would tell you to pray to St. Anthony. I think that's who the Saint of Lost Things is." Aimee's face pinched. "Or maybe it was St. Christopher. I should have paid better attention in Sunday School I guess." She laughed again. It was a loud, jarring laugh, too big for her petite frame.

Buffy looked up from the glass display. "I'm not exactly a religious person," she said flatly.

"Oh, I saw your necklace and just assumed." The shop girl looked apologetic as if the comment might have unintentionally offended the blonde.

Buffy self-consciously held onto the pendent of her necklace in the palm of her hand. The cross felt heavy against her palm, solid and reassuring. "Are you a witch?" Her steely gaze leveled the woman suspiciously.

"I'm, ah…I dabble." Aimee's lips twisted into a shy, self-deprecating smile. "I only have experience doing small spells – location spells, glamors, that kind of thing. I'm not yet up to having my Will Be Done or anything." She licked her lips. "How about you? How do you know about this kind of stuff?"

Buffy's voice was low. "If by 'stuff,' do you mean how do I know the monsters hiding under my bed are very real?"

Aimee visibly swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. That would be it."

Buffy shook her head. Her gaze left the store employee's face and looked off into the distance. An oppressive feeling of melancholy and regret seemed to hover around her aura. "Let's just say that this isn't my first Hellmouth and leave it at that."

* * *

Faith spun Buffy's phone on the countertop like it was a toy top. She watched the cell phone spin around and around and until it finally came to a stop. Willow was probably right. Buffy was always forgetting her phone. It had been the topic of a few arguments, in fact. Buffy claimed she hated the feeling of being connected to technology smarter than her, but recognized its usefulness in times of emergency. But, as she'd smugly pointed out to Faith during one of their fights when she'd left the phone behind and Faith had needed to get a hold of her, if it had been a _true _emergency she wouldn't have had time to make a phone call at all.

"I've been thinking about this baby thing, Will," Faith stated aloud to the woman still on the other end of the phone call. "Is there any chance we're wrong about this?"

Willow made an uncomfortable noise. "No," she said. "I'm sure."

"That's the thing that's been bothering me," Faith said. She scratched at her chin. "I've never been sure of anything in my life. But _this_? This I'm _sure_ of. It's like my brain won't let me even entertain the _possibility_ that Buffy's been right all along."

Willow was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. "You still there, Red?" Faith asked, clutching her phone tighter. She sincerely hoped Willow didn't know more than she was letting on and that she hadn't been left in the dark again.

"Still here."

"What do you think?" Faith pressed again. "Is it possible?"

"I guess….it could…_maybe_; it's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to us," Willow conceded after a brief internal struggle.

"So why have we been so quick to dismiss her?" the dark-haired slayer pointed out.

"Maybe…just maybe…" Willow sighed heavily. "Why is it so hard for me to get myself to the words. I think," she said slowly, "you may be on to something, Faith. It could be a blocking spell."

"What does that mean?" Faith questioned. "A blocking spell?"

Willow sighed again and rubbed at her face. She felt so stupid. "That Buffy's been right all along, and we've been idiots to doubt her." She paused dramatically. "Again."

"We've gotta find her and tell her," Faith said eagerly. She felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.

"I can do a locater spell," Willow offered. "Can you bring something of hers to the Magic Shop?"

"Yeah," Faith confirmed. "Give me like half an hour and I'll meet you there."

* * *

Buffy stared at the small vial of blue liquid. It was a metallic shimmery color and seemed to move in swirled patterns within the glass container. "What does it do and how do I do it?"

"It's a generalized portal spell," Aimee responded. "When people aren't really sure what kind of spell they're looking for, I sometimes give them this. It'll take you to whatever or whoever it is you're looking for." She frowned slightly when a thought crossed her mind. "It doesn't always work the way people intend, however," she warned. "You might _think_ you know what it is you aim to find, but you might be wrong about that and the portal will take you someplace entirely unexpected."

"What about different dimensions?" Buffy questioned. "If this thing I'm looking for is in a different dimension, will it take me there?"

The question made the store employee look uncomfortable. Apparently this was more serious than a misplaced favorite shoe. "Uh, yeah. It'll do that, too. But again," she echoed her early warning, "it can be a little unstable if you're not completely focused when you use the spell."

"No," Buffy said, cutting the other woman off before she could convince herself otherwise. "I know exactly what it is I'm looking for." Her eyes never left the hypnotic whirling liquid in her grasp. "I'm certain."

* * *

Faith left the kitchen in favor of the third bedroom of the suburban home, which had been converted into a home office. Neither slayer had need of an actual office, since they spent more time in cemeteries than in corporate casual, but it had seemed like the thing to do with the smallest of the three bedrooms.

Faith had suggested they turn the den into a workout space, but Buffy had wrinkled her nose at the idea. Sweating on carpeting was unsanitary she'd insisted, plus she didn't think her homeowner's insurance would cover body-shaped holes in the plaster. As a result, Faith herself never spent any time in the room, which now served as a catchall for things that didn't seem to fit anyplace else in the house.

It was also the room where Buffy stored the few keepsake items they'd been able to salvage from the crater-formerly-known-as-Sunnydale. With the help of Willow's magic, they'd been able to find and retrieve a few items from the rubble that Buffy now kept in a box in the office closet. Faith could have brought Buffy's hairbrush to Willow for the locater spell, but she knew the more special the object, the more accurate the spell.

Entering the room gave her an unsettled feeling. She stood in the doorway, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She hadn't been in the space since Buffy had woken up in hysterics over a week ago, ranting about someone stealing her baby from her womb. As she stood in the threshold, she couldn't help but picture how fragile and utterly devastated Buffy had looked when she'd realized the home office was not actually a nursery as she had remembered.

Faith sucked in a brave breath and strode into the room. She crossed the space and opened the closet door, and was instantly attacked by a tumbling soccer ball and an old sweater that fell from the top shelf. She threw up her hands to deflect the cascading objects from striking her in the face. _Why did they own a soccer ball? _she silently cursed.

When another unidentified object toppled from the top shelf and sharply hit her extended forearm, Faith grunted her displeasure. "How many times have I told her not to just shove stuff in here?" she muttered to herself. "She's gonna knock me into another coma if she keeps this up."

She pushed her hair out of her face and looked down to the ground where the object that had hit her had fallen to.

"Holy shit."

Faith stared down in disbelief at the binder-looking book splayed unassumingly on the office floor. With shaking hands, she bent and retrieved it from the ground. The title on the outer binding made her feel sick: _The Belly Book._

She took another deep breath and opened to the center of the book and flipped through a few pages before reading:

_ Today I was craving watermelon, but it's out of season, so Willow conjured me one. It tasted a little funny, but I didn't say anything to her about it because she looked so happy to be able to help. I suppose it could just be my pregnant taste buds being off lately and not her magic._

Buffy's careful scrawl covered practically every page, chronicling a pregnancy that never was.

Faith flipped to the front. On the inside cover was someone else's handwriting, not Buffy's. She immediately recognized the hasty chicken scratch, however, because it was her own:

_To B, _

_ I can't wait for this new adventure with you and the little mango. _

_ Love you always, _

_ F_

TBC


	7. Chapter 6: Jumper

**A/N: A big thank you to everyone still anxiously waiting for new chapters to this story. The action's really going to pick up now! An even bigger thank you to everyone who has supported my venture into original fiction. _Date Night_ is currently #52 on Amazon's best-selling Lesbian Fiction because of you!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Jumper  
**

"This can't be possible." Willow stared at the pink and white covered book.

"That's what I thought," Faith agreed, "but here it is."

Willow shook her head. "This is…remarkable."

Faith, Willow, and Kennedy sat around a wooden table at the Magic Shop. In the center of the table was the personal object Faith had brought with her to help with the tracking spell – Buffy's "Belly Book."

Kennedy grabbed the book and thumbed through the notebook. "If it really was a spell blocking out our memories," she posed, "why would this thing still exist?"

"If it wasn't meant to be a permanent spell, the affects could be fading," Willow hypothesized. She looked momentarily thoughtful. "Or, because we've started to believe Buffy, that could be inherently weakening the spell, and our memories and proof of Buffy's pregnancy like this book would start to come back."

Faith clenched and unclenched her jaw. "Who would do this to her?" She knew she'd been wrong not to believe Buffy from the very beginning. But she was determined to do right now. She would help Buffy _and _punish whoever had made her suffer.

"You want a list?" Willow cocked an eyebrow. "We just looked through a whole library of demons the other day who'd want to mess with her just for the bragging rights."

Kennedy rubbed her hands together. "Let's stop gabbing and get down to the magic, huh?"

Willow nodded and began the spell. She pulled out a map of the city and laid it flat on the table. She sprinkled a white power over the map, creating a light, almost invisible dusting of the unidentifiable substance. She took the "Belly Book" from Kennedy and held the object over the map. She mumbled an incantation under her breath and the book shook slightly in her hand. The dusting on the map lifted a few inches off the table and began to glow a vibrant green color. The neon light floated back down to the map and shifted into a variety of shapes and patterns before settling down.

"Where is she, Will?" Kennedy peered over her girlfriend's shoulder at the map. "The anticipation is killing me."

"I'm not…I'm not sure," the Wiccan slowly admitted. Her teeth pulled at her lower lip and her eyebrows crunched together. The map in front of them didn't make any sense.

Faith peered at the enchanted map as well. "Did your spell not work? I thought this was supposed to be kids stuff for you."

Willow looked mildly annoyed. "The spell worked just fine," she huffed. "But Buffy's not showing up for some reason."

"Like, she's not in Cleveland anymore?" Faith's voice wavered. "But she doesn't have an driver's license. And why wouldn't she leave a note behind if she were leaving the city? Do you think she ran away? Did we fuck up so badly that she left?"

"Faith, calm down," Willow soothed. "That's not what happened. Look," she said, tapping at the Cleveland map. "The map shows her leaving her house here. And this green line is where she went next," she stated, tracing her finger along a faint green glowing line. "Now normally the green line ends with a larger green circle, like the X on a Treasure Map, that would show Buffy's current position." She tapped her fingertip where Buffy's travels abruptly stopped.

"So where is she?" Faith asked, still not understanding how the tracking spell was supposed to work. "Where's her green glob?"

Willow shook her head. "That's what doesn't make any sense. It's like she just disappeared or something."

Faith made a startled noise as she inhaled sharply. "As in, she's _dead_?"

"No. No. There'd still be the green mark where her body was," Willow clarified. "That's not what's happened."

Kennedy looked confused. "So you're saying her body is gone?"

"I don't know what I'm saying!" Willow's voice raised in frustration. She hated being the only Wiccan in the room. She missed Giles.

Faith abruptly stood up and her chair scratched roughly against the tiled floor. "Grab your stuff, you two," she ordered. "Hanging out here, staring at this useless map, isn't gonna help us find her. We gotta retrace her steps," she said, her finger shadowing the thin, green line. "And hopefully by the time we get here," she said, tapping where the trail ended," we'll have more answers."

Willow's eyes hadn't left the map during Faith's orders. Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Wait a minute," she murmured. She stood, as if in a trance, and wandered over to a bookshelf where various magic supplies were displayed.

"C'mon, Red," Faith said impatiently. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, impatient with the inaction. "We don't have time for more magic. It didn't work."

"I said it worked just fine," Willow retorted over her shoulder.

"Then where is Buffy?" Faith glowered.

"Watch it, Lehane," Kennedy scowled. "She's doing the best she can."

"_You _watch it, brat," Faith retorted. "You're not too big I can't put you down whenever I want."

Kennedy hopped to her feet and sneered. "Yeah, I'd just like to see you try."

Faith leaned into Kennedy's personal bubble.

"Stop it, you two!" Willow ordered. She scanned the bookcase until she found what she was looking for. "I have an idea, and you two beating your chests is distracting me." She snatched a small box off the eye-level shelf and returned to the table.

Faith was the first to pull back. Kennedy reluctantly retreated as well.

Unspeaking, Willow opened the lid of the box and produced a small amount of what looked like sawdust. She placed a pinch of the substance in the palm of her hand. She muttered a few quiet words in Latin and then blew on the dust, displacing it from her hand, so it scattered in the air and fluttered to land on the Cleveland map. The air surrounding the map shimmered, and the green line that showed Buffy's most recent whereabouts turned a teal color.

"What did you do?" Faith questioned.

"There!" Willow crowed. She jabbed her finger at the end of the new, blue line. A blue orb punctuated the end of the trail.

"So you found her?" The relief in Faith's tone was palpable.

The look of victory on Willow's face immediately vanished. "Not exactly."

Faith looked ready to punch something or at least tear out her hair. She hated magic. It seemed unpredictable and unreliable – two words she normally would have ascribed to herself. But that wasn't who she was anymore and now anything that reminded her of her former self caused nothing but anger and misgivings.

"Willow," Faith said, slowly, trying to recall those anger management sessions she'd had to sit through in prison. She wished she'd taken them more seriously. "I can't handle anymore wishy-washy answers. Where. Is. Buffy?"

The Wiccan worried her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, Faith. But I don't think she's in our dimension anymore."

Faith sat down, not trusting her legs to keep her upright. "How can that just _happen?_" She looked deflated.

Willow shook her head. "I can't tell. What I _do _know is who was responsible for the magic that did it. Every witch leaves behind his or her own marker." She touched the blue orb on the map and the air shifted. "Her name is Aimee."

"Amy as in Evil Amy?" Kennedy interjected. "The witch who turned you into Warren, Amy?"

Willow shook her head. "No. At least I don't think so. I've heard a little bit about this Aimee; she's a local Wicca who runs a used bookstore that she uses as a front for magical services."

"How do we know this girl isn't the Amy from Sunnydale?" Faith countered. "From what I've heard about that nut-job she could have very well kidnapped Buffy to another dimension." The more she thought about it, the more her stomach felt uneasy.

"Because this is clean energy," Willow noted, swirling her hand near the enchanted map. A light blue shimmer was created wherever her fingers touched. "So unless _our_ Amy has suddenly turned to squeaky-clean white magic, the name is just a coincidence."

Kennedy cracked her knuckles. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go find ourselves a witch."

* * *

Buffy winced. She tried to stand up, but her knees buckled and she became light-headed. Trans-dimensional travel had always been unkind, but this journey felt unusually cruel. She bent over and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach into a nearby pile of wooden crates in the narrow alley she now found herself. Tears sprung to her eyes, momentarily blinding her.

The sound of a metal door screeching open filled her ears, followed by a concerned voice. "Hey, are you okay?"

She spun when she felt a hand in the small of her back. Despite the feelings of disorientation, her slayer senses were tingling. _Demon_ they warned her.

She grabbed onto the wrist of whomever had touched her and violently twisted until the creature's arm was pinned high behind its back. It squealed, a high-pitched, pig-like noise of surprise.

"Where am I?" Buffy's throat felt like it was on fire. "What is this place?" She wretched the red, rough-skinned demon's arm upward, no doubt pulling uncomfortably at tender elbow and shoulder tendons.

"Please," the demon wheezed. "I'll give you everything in my wallet."

Buffy dropped the demon's arm and pushed it stumbling away a few feet. "I'm not a mugger!" she protested with wide eyes.

The demon looked unconvinced. It held its hands up in front of its broad body. "I've got 5 spawn at home," it whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."

"I'm _not _going to hurt you," Buffy repeated. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I may be a slayer, but I'm not going to hurt you."

"S-s-s-s-slayer?!" The demon took a step backwards and looked both ways. "What is a slayer doing _here?_"

"I'm not here to cause any problems," Buffy said as gently as she could. "I'm just looking for my –."

"_Help!_" the demon shrieked loudly, cutting her off. "_Slayer! Slayer! Slayer!"_

Buffy's shoulders hunched and she held her hands tight against her ears. The demon's voice had reached an inhumane level and pitch.

She looked up again when she felt the presence of multiple demons. Three more had arrived. The original red demon pointed a long, out-stretched arm in her direction. "She's a Slayer!" it cried. "She attacked me!"

Buffy looked warily at the new demons. All three were substantially larger than herself and she had brought no weapons with her besides her own body. She carefully pulled herself to her full height and kept her eyes trained on all four monsters.

"Well I didn't _plan_ on hurting anyone, but that doesn't mean I won't."

She lunged for the closest demon and her fist connected with its beak-like mouth. Its head snapped backwards and it collapsed to the ground, rendered unconscious with a single uppercut.

The remaining demons hollered in unison and scampered away, each screaming, "Slayer! Slayer!"

Buffy ran out of the alley, chasing the gaggle of monsters. "Come back!" she yelled futilely.

She came to a halt as she turned a corner. Her senses were suddenly overwhelmed and she staggered forward a few steps, swallowing down a second bout of sickness. Her eyes tears up and she snapped her head toward the sky when her ears filled with murmurs of concern and fear.

Everywhere she looked, she saw demons. Demons of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

The ground seemed to quiver beneath her feet. Her eyes widened at the size of the demon lumbering toward her. Its stony face was unreadable. Its voice rumbled through the air. "Buffy Summers."

Her body tensed. "Yes?" She hated the way her voice cracked.

"We've been waiting for you."

Buffy opened her mouth, a snarky quip ready. But she was unprepared when the bulky beast lifted its arm and pointed a black, gun-shaped device in her direction. It pulled the trigger and Buffy flinched, expecting the worst. A small barb flew out, attached to a thin line. The metal clip attached painlessly to her collarbone.

"What the?"

And then came the pain. White, hot pain. She lost control of her body and crumpled to the ground.

Despite the electrical current that continued to zap through her limbs, she was aware of her surroundings just enough to notice the small white shoes cautiously shuffling toward her and the slight, shadowy silhouette hovering above her.

And then she slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

"You." Faith stormed through the main entrance of the used bookstore and pointed a finger at a startled looking shop employee. "Are you Aimee?"

The brunette's eyes widened. "Uh, y-y-yes?" She looked around the shop nervously.

"What did you do with my girlfriend?" Faith slammed her fist down on the front counter, causing the items on its surface to jump and rattle. The young Wicca looked rattled as well.

She swallowed hard. "And who might your girlfriend be?" she asked timidly.

Kennedy strode up alongside the other brunette slayer. "Buffy Summers," she said, narrowing her eyes menacingly. "Does that name ring a bell?" Kennedy wasn't so concerned about Buffy's disappearance, but she jumped at the opportunity to be intimidating.

The woman's eyes darted back and forth between the two aggressively posed women. When her gaze fell on the redhead trailing behind, she jumped up from her seat so quickly, she nearly toppled the stool over. "Willow Rosenberg." The name fell from her lips like an uttered prayer.

Willow came to stand next to her slayer girlfriend. "Um, yes?"

"I-I'm s-s-s-sorry," the young Wicca stammered. "I'm just _such _a fan."

Kennedy and Faith both looked in Willow's direction. "_Fan?_"

Aimee, the shop clerk, looked flustered. "Well of course I'm a fan," she blustered. "She's only like, the most powerful Wicca in North America."

Willow cast her eyes to the floor, blushing nearly the color of her hair. "Oh, um, I don't know about that."

Kennedy snagged onto Willow's elbow. "Yeah, well she's _my _girlfriend," she snarled possessively. "So don't get any ideas."

Aimee's eyes grew wide. "Please don't break my face," she squeaked. "It's the only one I have."

"Guys, back to Buffy?" Faith refocused the trajectory of the conversation.

"Right." Willow straightened. "We're looking for our friend and we think she may have come here."

Aimee winced. "Pretty blonde girl, hazel eyes, about so high?" She held up her hand just barely shorter than her own petite frame.

The group collectively nodded.

"Uh, she was in here this morning, asking a lot of questions about magic," Aimee admitted. "I was really surprised because normally the, uh, _things_ that come asking about a way to another world don't look so…"

"Blonde?" Willow tried.

"Annoying and puny?" Kennedy supplied.

Aimee shook her head. "No. Human."

Willow gave Aimee a hard look. Fan-girl or not, this other witch was responsible for the disappearance of her best friend. "Did you cast a spell for her?"

"Am I in some kind of trouble?" Aimee held up her hands in retreat. "She told me she'd lost something and needed to get it back. I gave her a spell to help her find it, that's all."

Willow blanched. "She was still looking for her…" she trailed off. "Why didn't you tell us she was still looking?" she demanded of Faith.

"Did you really think she was going to give up after a _week_, Willow?" Faith snapped back.

"I thought she was fine," Willow growled back. "A little sad maybe and pissed off at us, but I didn't think she'd go _dimension jumping_."

"Well apparently she was so _fine_ that she's stuck in another dimension now!" Faith hotly pointed out.

"Oh, she's not stuck," Aimee piped up.

The group of women turned to regard the other Wicca.

"I don't sell one-way tickets in case people change their mind," Aimee supplied meekly. "She's got a counter-spell that will bring her back."

"So she can come back whenever she wants?" Kennedy asked.

The brunette witch nodded. "Yup."

Faith frowned, deep in thought and self-doubt. "But what if she found what she was looking for and doesn't want to come back?"

Willow laid a reassuring hand on Faith's shoulder, her earlier anger forgotten. "Of course she'd want to come back."

"If you want, I can teleport you to where her portal opened, but there's no guarantee she's anywhere near that location anymore," Aimee offered with a slight shrug. "Time works differently on other planes of existence. It could be years later by now."

"Or _seconds_," Willow noted helpfully.

Aimee nodded. "That's true. But that's a risk you'd have to be willing to take."

"I have no other options," Faith stated.

"Wait, Faith. You can't just jump into a portal by herself and chase after her," Willow protested.

"Why not?" Faith challenged.

"We should do research. We should gather our resources," Willow said pragmatically with a curt nod of her head. "We come up with a plan."

"You heard the lady," Faith said, shaking her head. "It could be years later by now. I'm not going to leave Buffy in another world to fend for herself."

"I'm with Faith on this one, babe," Kennedy supplied. "If you were in another dimension, I'd go portal hopping to get you back home safe, too."

Willow sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"So once I do this thing, how do I get back?" Faith asked nervously. "Click my heels three times and say 'There's No Place Like Home?'"

Aimee produced a small glass vial filled with a thick liquid so purple, it almost looked black, and handed it to Faith. "Smash this jar against any surface and another portal will appear," she instructed." She pressed a small slip of paper about the size of a fortune cookie fortune into Faith's palm. "This incantation will set the portal's coordinates and bring you back here. Be careful with the pronunciation though," she warned. "Say it wrong and you could be sent someplace else."

Faith nodded solemnly.

Willow grasped Faith's forearm. "Are you _sure _you want to go in there alone?"

Faith set her jaw. "You need to stay here, Willow," she said gruffly. "If something goes wrong, I'm gonna need someone I trust to find a way to bring us both back.

Willow released Faith's arm and silently nodded her understanding. She knew her job. Slayers jumped headfirst into the fray. Her job was always the safety net. "Be careful and bring our girl back."

Faith hesitated, just for a moment. "I will," she acknowledged. She sucked in a sharp breath. "If she wants to come back."

The dark-haired slayer flashed a look in Aimee's direction. "I'm ready," she announced. "Let's do this."

Aimee nodded somberly. In her decade of practicing magic, she'd opened hundreds of portals before – it was her livelihood. But something about _this_ felt more important and imperative than anything she'd ever done before. She carefully rolled up her sleeved shirt to her elbows and summoned her magic around her.

Faith couldn't make out the words, but she could see the brunette witch's lips moving. Her eyes seemed fixed on a faraway spot. A sharp crack echoed in the air like a thunderbolt, and a dark rift appeared on a wall close to Faith.

"On the other side of this vortex you'll find a world very similar to our own," Aimee began. It was the same speech she gave to all her clients when they wanted to jump dimensions. "But don't let that lull you into false comfort. You'll be an outsider, a visitor to that world, and that's never a good thing."

Faith nodded. "I understand."

Pocketing the small vial and the slip of paper, her only way home, she strode over to the swirling portal. She glanced once more in the direction of her friends. Aimee looked grave, Willow wrung her hands, and even Kennedy, who gave her a tense head nod, looked worried.

Faith looked back to the swirling, magical doorway. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself.

Summoning her courage, she took a step forward and jumped.

TBC


	8. Chapter 7: Gafka

**A/N: YOU GUYS. I know it's been forever. Please forgive me, kittens. I'm drowning in grading this semester, which leaves very little time for writing fiction. But I promise I haven't abandoned ship. Hope you're still out there, too. Also, I just started a new twitter account just for my fanfiction and original stories. Follow me at ElizaLentzski for updates**

* * *

Buffy took stock of her joyless surroundings. After being tased, she had groggily awoken to discover she was now someone's or _something's _prisoner. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, but she didn't feel terribly hungry which was a good sign that she at least hadn't lost multiple days.

Her jail cell was empty with nothing on which to sit or sleep besides the smooth, stone floor. High vaulted ceilings soared above her. A narrow beam of natural sunlight flooded into the cell from a small, rectangle opening about 15 feet above the ground.

She tested the metal bars that contained her. The bars were thick and sturdily made. She tried prying them apart, but with no success. She stuck her leg through a narrow opening and tried to shimmy her hips through, but the gap was too small for even her boyish hips.

Next, she placed her hands on the rock walls and tried her fingers against the material. Maybe she could climb up to the window and wiggle out the opening if it wasn't barred shut, too. Her fingernails slipped uselessly against the polished walls. There was no way she'd be able to scale the smooth surface without suction cups or being bitten by a radioactive spider.

She listened for any sounds that indicated if she was just one of many prisoners, but she only heard the incessant dripping of water, hollow and echoing in the cavernous prison.

The relative silence of her surroundings was interrupted by the protesting shriek of rusted metal. Her eyes narrowed when she felt the ground beneath her quiver, just as it had above ground right before she'd been rendered unconscious. She hated concussions almost as much as being drowned.

The same lumbering demon that had attacked her earlier came into sight. Buffy rushed the bars of her cell. "You!" she hissed. She uselessly shook the metal rods.

"Slayer." The demon nodded once in greeting, but looked unimpressed by her show of anger.

"Dagmar?" came a small, girlish voice. "Who's that?"

Buffy's anger fell away when a small girl who looked to be no more than 4 or 5 slipped out from behind the massive demon. Her light brunette hair was loose and hit the tops of her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. She wore a light blue dress that fell above two knobby knees, paired with white dress shoes. Even in the dim lighting, Buffy could make out bright green eyes that peered curiously back at her from beneath bangs that fell across the girl's forehead.

The girl cautiously approached the bars that separated her from the slayer. "You're pretty," she said, cocking her head to one side.

"Thank you," Buffy said with a small smile. "I'm Buffy," she introduced herself, sticking one hand through the bars. "What's your name?"

The girl took a step backwards and glanced up at the demon beside her. "Why is she locked up?" she whispered, ignoring Buffy's outstretched hand and question. The girl's gaze returned to the captive slayer and her green eyes narrowed slightly. "She doesn't _look _dangerous."

The demon took the young girl's hand in its own giant paw. "Looks can be deceiving, young one." It gently turned the girl away and glanced back just once at Buffy.

The little girl didn't appear alarmed to be led away by the massive, stone demon. She flapped her free hand from side to side in an exaggerated wave. "Bye, Buffy!" she chirped with the enthusiasm and naivety of youth.

The demon unlocked a thick metal door at the rear of the prison. It squeaked noisily on its heavy hinges. The girl went through the doorway without looking back and the demon shut it again once she was all the way through.

"Your name is Dagmar, huh?" Buffy shot out to her demon captor.

The monster seemed unfazed. "Do not test me, slayer," it said emotionlessly. "I've just done you a great kindness."

Buffy's features crumpled when she realized what the demon was referring to. "That's her, isn't it?" she said in a defeated voice.

The demon gravely nodded. "Yes," it confirmed. "That's your daughter."

* * *

Faith felt like her head was in a vise. She was convinced that it was just a matter of time before the pressure enveloping her head would crush her skull like a rotten piece of fruit. She felt nauseous and disoriented, and didn't know how much longer she could remain conscious.

Just as her vision began to dim and she felt herself start to slip away, the pressure instantly lifted. The darkness of the portal was replaced by blinding light, and she fell hard to her knees. No longer burdened by the insufferable pressure, she breathed in deeply. She felt like a deflated tire whose pressure had been restored.

Faith stood up on wobbly knees, glad to once again be on solid ground. She leaned against a building and took long, deep breaths until her equilibrium returned. Before she could fully recover, she felt a familiar tingling in her tendons. _Demon_, it warned her.

She crouched behind a mailbox and waited on the balls of her feet. She was shocked to see, in broad daylight, a Serparvo Demon walking down the sidewalk.

She quickly assessed the situation. Serparvo Demons could only be killed by water. _How am I going to find water? _she silently worried. She had no idea where she was. This could be a waterless dimension for all she knew, which would account for why the Serparvo looked so cheerful. _Maybe I can spit on it to death _she grimaced. She'd grossed herself out with that thought. Still with no plan, she tensed her leg muscles and readied herself to spring out from her hiding spot and attack.

She stopped only when she felt a tight hand grab onto her elbow and hold her back. "Stop! You'll get yourself arrested!" a man hissed as he dragged her to her feet. "Violence against demons is the highest crime."

"What?"

Faith took a moment to really take in her surroundings. Nothing looked out of the ordinary about this new dimension – unless you counted that tentacle'd demon family playing in a playground nearby as unusual. Or the fuzzy creature delivering the mail. Or the giant-toothed monster holding a stop sign at the crosswalk while an assorted group of mini demons, all tethered together, walked across the busy intersection.

Even though she'd recovered from the portal jump, Faith felt dizzy again. "What the hell is this place?"

The man's features scrunched. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Faith shook her head.

"Well don't ignore my warning; a woman was imprisoned just a few days ago for attacking a demon. It's all over the news. They charged her with a Hate Crime. There's no tolerance for human-on-demon violence of any kind here in Gafka."

"A Slayer?" Faith demanded excitedly. _Buffy._ She'd found her. The spell had worked.

"Not so loud!" The man looked around to see if anyone had overheard her. "That word is _blasphemy _here," he whispered.

"Where's this prison?" Faith demanded. She tried to keep her emotions in check to avoid drawing unwanted attention to herself.

The man regarded Faith. "Are you…" He cleared his throat and looked around. He lowered his voice and leaned in. "Are you a slayer, too?"

"Yes. Now where did they take my friend?"

The man hesitated. "If I help you. You must help us."

"_Us?"_

"The anti-demon movement has been quietly gaining momentum underground." The man's dark eyes flashed. "Not everyone agrees with the laws that protect those _things_," he spat venomously. "They take our jobs, they send their spawn to our schools, they even want to get married in our churches. We've been waiting on the leadership of someone like yourself."

Faith eyeballed the man curiously. "Huh. So you're like a member of the anti-demon Ku Klux Klan?"

The man looked confused. "I don't know what that is."

Faith held up her hands. "Listen, I don't get involved in politics. Not even in my own world. And the last time I was put in charge of a group, people ended up getting blown up."

"Without our help, you'll have no chance to save your friend," the man warned. "The laws are more lenient for demons. They get little more than a slap on the wrist for harming a human…if they even _have _wrists," he shuddered. "But if your friend is found guilty, she'll be transported to another dimension, and she'll be lost forever. That's the penalty for humans."

Faith weighed her options. She could align herself with a band of bigoted humans or risk Buffy being forcibly sent to another dimension before she could form an independent plan. It appeared as if she had no choice. "Alright," she said with a tense nod. "I'm in."

* * *

Buffy looked up when she heard the telltale sound of gates and locks being unlocked and opened. Her face fell, however, when she recognized Dagmar, the demon that had imprisoned her. The little girl, however, had not come along this time.

The monster offered no greetings or pleasantries. It simply unlocked a small, horizontal door at the base of Buffy's cage and slid a tray of food through the opening. Buffy was grateful that the food looked recognizable and edible, but she let no visible emotion betray her feelings.

"So that's it?" she spat out bitterly. "I'm your prisoner forever?"

"You're not _my _prisoner," Dagmar said gruffly. "I'm just the nanny."

"Nanny?" Buffy echoed. The creature looked far too intimidating and imposing for such an innocuous label.

Dagmar's chest swelled and fell as if releasing a massive sigh. "My kind is hired to protect the children of the rich, powerful, and influential."

"My daughter?"

The demon nodded slowly.

"What does she need protection from?" Buffy questioned.

"She has no destiny, if that's your question," Dagmar replied. "She's just a human child."

Buffy couldn't help the feeling of relief despite her current situation. All she'd ever wanted for her unborn child was a normal life. But Dagmar's admission didn't give her much reprieve. "If she has no destiny and is human, why was she taken from me?" Buffy demanded. "And why is she so grown?"

Dagmar hesitated. It was clear to Buffy that this conversation was not protocol. She wondered if the monster was even supposed to be bringing her food. "The child and I have been to 45 dimensions since she was taken. In some of those other worlds, time worked differently. You may feel like she's been gone a month, but she's about 5-years-old now in your human years."

Buffy choked back a sob. Her baby. Her little girl. 5-years-old. She blinked rapidly when she felt her tear ducts start to betray her. "Why all the dimension hopping?"

"We never stayed in one place for too long to avoid detection," the demon said simply.

"Detection by me." Buffy said the words not as a question, but as a statement.

Dagmar nodded.

"But you slipped up. You stayed here for too long and I found you," Buffy growled, feeling her grief turn to anger.

Dagmar shook its head, a look of pity on its normally emotionless face. "No. It was not a mistake, Slayer. The time was finally right. _It _wanted you to find us."

Something about the way Dagmar said _It _made Buffy's bones ache with foreboding. She waited silently for the demon to continue.

"As to your first question, Slayer, _why _your child was taken, I can only guess." It shrugged its massive shoulders helplessly. "Punishment? Revenge? Isn't that usually how these things go?"

"Why did you want me to see her?"

Dagmar hesitated. "I have no particularly allegiance in this matter. My priority is the child."

"If have no allegiance, then get me out of here!"

The demon frowned. "I don't have that kind of influence," it explained. "I'm just the nanny."

Buffy made a frustrated noise. "I'm her _mother_ for Gods sake. She should be with _me. _Isn't _that _in her best interest?"

Dagmar held out its giant, stony palms in a gesture of peace. "I _am _sorry, Slayer. But that is not for me to decide."

"I demand a lawyer!" Buffy hollered. "I've been unfairly imprisoned. Bring me to your leader. Your king or queen or president or CEO or something! I'm an American! Don't I have any rights?" Buffy's voice bordered on frantic.

"You tried to kill a citizen of Gafka, unprovoked," Dagmar gently pointed out.

"But I didn't know!" Buffy protested. "I'm a _slayer! _I see a demon and my instincts tell me to _slay!_"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way here."

"I just want to go home!" Buffy cried.

"And abandon your child now that you're _sure_ she's alive?"

Buffy clutched at the unmovable bars of her cell. "_Who_, Dagmar?" she pressed. "Who took my baby?"

Dagmar blinked once. Its face was an unreadable as a mountain. "The First," it answered. "The First Evil captured your child. And now It has captured you."

At those words, Buffy fell silent. She swallowed hard and felt all the energy seep from her body.

Dagmar nodded in understanding. "I'll leave you to your thoughts." The demon hesitated briefly. "I'll see what I can do about procuring you a cot and blanket."

Buffy nodded numbly. "Thank you," she said thickly. "Any kindness and comfort is appreciated."

The demon looked like it wanted to say more, but instead it turned its back and walked away.

When Dagmar was out of sight, Buffy sat back down in her cell. The cold seeped through the seat of her pants. She sat, head in hands, and mourned the child she would never know, the firsts she would never witness – first steps, first words, first potty training. And ironically it had been the _First_ who had stolen those moments from her.

She was sure that eventually this grief and shock would fade to anger, but for now, she just tried to keep it together.

TBC


	9. Chapter 8: Nora

**A/N: **It's me again! I want to thank everyone who's still invested in this story and leaving great feedback. It gives me even more incentive to churn out these updates. I hope you all enjoy this one.

Also, I wanted to announce the publication of my latest novel, _Second Chances_. It's now available at Amazon in hardcopy and as an e-book under my pen name, Eliza Lentzski. Such a giant thank you to everyone who supported _Date Night_. I hope you'll love _Second Chances_ as well :)

**Chapter 8: Nora**

"Hi, Buffy!"

Buffy stood up from her cot and approached the bars of her cell. The girl whom Dagmar had told her was her lost daughter bounced into the room. Dagmar, however, was not in sight. "How did you get down here?"

The young girl shrugged and licked at a melting ice cream cone.

"Where's Dagmar?"

A mischievous smile flitted on the child's innocent face. "Upstairs talking with Nanna."

"Nanna?" Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Who's that?"

"She's not my real grandmother. She looks too young. Even _I _know that," the girl said matter-of-factly.

Buffy had too many questions and didn't know where to start. She had no idea how or why her daughter was visiting her in jail again. And as much as she hated to admit it, this girl might not really be her daughter. It could all be an elaborate plan of The First's. "What's your name?" she finally asked.

The girl suddenly stopped licking her ice cream cone.

Buffy crouched down. "You can tell me," she gently urged.

The child averted her gaze. She kicked at a small pebble and sent it flying across the prison floor.

A thought came to Buffy's mind. Something about the way Dagmar always addressed the child struck her. "Do you _have _a name?" she asked.

The young girl sheepishly shook her head.

"What do people call you then?"

"'Young One,' or 'Little One.'" She made a face. "I hate it."

Another thought, one infinitely unsettling, sprang in Buffy's mind. _This girl could be The First._ It wouldn't have been the first time the Worst of the Worst had deceived her by taking on an unexpected form. At one point she and her friends had even thought Giles might have been The First Evil. Pretending to be her own daughter seemed just the type of cruel trick The First was capable of.

Buffy tentatively reached out, her fingers snaking through the bars of her cell. She touched the fabric of the small girl's dress. It was solid. It was real. "This is a pretty dress," she remarked, breathing a sigh of relief.

The girl's frown transformed into a wide smile. "Thanks! My mom got it for me!"

A surprising sob leapt from Buffy's throat, but she coughed loudly to mask it. "Your m-mom?" she stuttered.

"Yeah." The smile on the girl's face disappeared. "But she's dead."

"Dead?" Buffy echoed.

The child touched the bottom hem of her dress. "Uh huh," she murmured, her hazel eyes downcast. "She died a long time ago. I don't remember her, but Dagmar tells me about her sometimes, and he gives me presents he says she left for me." Her mouth sagged at the edges. "I don't really think this dress is from her though," she said quietly. "Dagmar just likes to make me happy."

Buffy sat down on the cement floor and tucked her legs beneath her. "Will you tell me about her?" she gently asked. "Your mom, I mean."

The little girl shrugged. "Dagmar says she was a great warrior and that she saved the world where I'm from a lot."

Buffy's heart ached inside her chest. How could she ever tell this girl that her mother wasn't dead? She was sitting right in front of her.

"What else?" Buffy asked, choking down overwhelming emotions.

The girl continued to fiddle with the bottom hem of her sundress. "I don't know. I probably shouldn't say." She suddenly eyeballed Buffy with curiosity. "Do_ you_ have any kids?"

"Yes. Once," Buffy nodded gravely. "Her name is Nora." The verb tense confused Buffy. Was she supposed to talk about the girl standing before her in the past or present tense? Was she even _hers_ anymore or had she lost any opportunity to be her mother when The First stole her away?

"Nora," the girl tried experimentally.

A metal gate was violently thrown open and Dagmar suddenly appeared. "Young one!" Dagmar raised his voice. He sounded breathless with worry. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I was just talking to Buffy," the girl pouted. She huffed and stomped her foot.

Dagmar's usually serious register took on a lighter tone. "I see that. But you know how I feel about you wandering off," he gently chastised. "Your Nanna would be very angry with me if anything were to happen to you."

"Buffy wouldn't hurt me." The girl snapped her attention to look back at the slayer, still behind bars. "Besides, she's in a cage."

"You can see Buffy whenever you'd like, but next time I want you to ask me first. Understood?"

The girl's bottom lip made an appearance. "Yes, Dagmar," she sullenly agreed. Any doubt that this child might not be hers erased. That pout was unmistakable. Who knew a talent for pouting was a genetic trait?

Dagmar opened the massive gate that led to the outside world, and Buffy's daughter walked through it. She stopped, turned back to the caged slayer, and waved exaggeratedly. "Bye, Buffy! I'll see you soon!"

Buffy felt the corners of her mouth form a smile without her permission. "Bye." The door closed with a metallic clang. "_Nora_," she whispered.

Dagmar sighed. It sounded like a great wind.

"So much for being a great protector," Buffy snorted.

"I've been charged with protecting many children in my time, but that one…" Dagmar trailed off and chuckled. The unexpected laugh vibrated the bars of Buffy's cell. "She's a handful." He looked purposely at the captive slayer. "Just like her mother."

Buffy swallowed hard.

Dagmar's voice returned to his usual business tone. "The First would like to talk with you if you're open to an audience with It."

Buffy stood and approached the edge of her cell. "You make it sound like The First is asking for permission."

"I don't know many details." Dagmar shook his massive head. "I'm not usually privy to those kinds of things, but I think It has a favor to ask."

Buffy laughed bitterly. "It tries to destroy my world, steals my daughter, locks me in a cage, and now expects a _favor_?"

Dagmar looked unimpressed. "What should I tell her?" The use of a gender-specific pronoun was not lost on Buffy.

"I'll meet with it."

* * *

The last place Faith expected meeting with the leaders of the anti-demon movement was a church basement. But the longer she sat, surrounded by posters and bulletin boards espousing love and charity, the less it surprised her. Humans mucked up everything despite the Golden Rule, and this dimension, this place called Gafka, was no exception.

She'd quickly been brought up to speed about the background of this world. It had been a former wasteland, re-gentrified by an outcast group of demons and humans. It became a safe haven for exiles or ex-patriots from various dimensions, which helped explain the diversity of its population and the openness about the existence of the supernatural.

The first few generations had lived in relative harmony. But lately the tide had begun to turn. Humans proved to be the most fertile and prolific of species and within the past few generations their populations had begun to overwhelm the local demon community. To check these swelling numbers and human influence, the town's governance had put in place strict limitations on human breeding along with harsh punishments for those guilty of human-on-demon violence.

With the restrictive legislation came resentment. The most vocal and angry were now seated in a half-circle around the Boston-born slayer.

"What are you exactly?" a steely eyed woman in a pastel-colored sweater asked.

"I'm a slayer," Faith responded.

"But what does that mean?" a man in the back corner of the room pressed.

Faith scanned the room. There were about thirty people surrounding her, all leaning forward in their metal fold-up chairs. She didn't like the feeling of so many eyes all trained on her. She had never thought of herself as a leader - that was Buffy's area. Despite her grumblings when she was younger, she better enjoyed being Second in Command. There was less pressure, less responsibility, less guilt that came with failure. But with Buffy in jail and with who knew how much time left before her 'trial,' the reigns had been handed over to her.

"How much do you know?" Faith asked the group. "What have you heard about slayers?"

Steve, the man who had originally recruited Faith and had kept her out of jail, spoke for the assembled group: "Not much that's probably true. I always thought the story of the Slayer was an Old Wives' Tale. Or something demon parents threatened their spawn with to get them to brush their teeth. I mean, it's pretty unbelievable - a girl with the strength and skills to fight vampires and other monsters?"

Faith nodded. "I know. I thought the same thing when I first heard the story though. But for me it wasn't the power that seemed unreasonable, it was the demon bit. Where I'm from, most everyone doesn't realize that vampires and werewolves and magic exist. Or if they do, they think they sparkle in the sun and have washboard abs."

"Huh?"

Faith waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not important."

"So are the rumors true?" another man asked. He stared at Faith with large, blinking eyes. He reminded her of an owl.

Faith couldn't help herself. "Don't believe everything on the Internet. These tits are 100% real." The collective confusion and overall horror plastered on the faces around the room momentarily pacified her.

She stood up and addressed the group. "Listen up because I'm only gonna say this once. I'm strong, I'm fast, I kill demons for a living, and I look damn good doing it. I don't give a flying fuck about your little anti-demon Crusade here, but my girlfriend is a prisoner in this godforsaken dimension. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. You help me bust Buffy outta prison and I'll help you kick a little demon ass. Do we have a deal?"

A collective murmur rose among the group. Voices blended together and Faith was unable to make out individual conversations. Finally, Steve stood up and held out his hand.

"Deal."

* * *

Buffy tested the chain links between the oversized cuffs clamped securely to her wrists. "Is this really necessary?"

Dagmar shrugged his massive shoulders. He led Buffy down a long corridor.

"You know that my legs are more dangerous, right?"

"Yes," the demon confirmed. "But I also know you're not a threat as long as The First has your daughter."

"If I'm not a threat, then why the oversized jewelry?"

"It's just a formality."

The last time Buffy had been in handcuffs, she'd been in the backseat of a Sunnydale squad car with Faith at her side. It was moments like this when she longed for simpler days when her biggest problems were washing the blood out of her favorite jacket and hoping Faith didn't notice when she ogled her ass in those leather pants. Actually, she took that back. She had been in handcuffs more recently. But it had been Faith, not a policeman, who'd put them on her, and this time she'd submitted voluntarily.

The creature beside her cleared its throat. "Are you well, Slayer?"

Buffy met Dagmar's inquisitive stare. "What?"

"You look flushed. Are you feeling well?"

"Y-yes. I'm as fine as can be expected."

She couldn't be blamed if thinking about her sinfully sexy girlfriend got her a little hot around the collar. When she managed to get herself out of this world and back to her own dimension, she and Faith would have to revisit restraints so she could replace her current memories about shackles with far more pleasant ones. Even though things looked dire, she'd gotten out of worse situations. She had to keep positive, had to keep hope alive that it was just a matter of time before she escaped.

The long corridor ended and they went through a series of heavily guarded security checkpoints. The elaborate locks and gates felt unnecessary, just like Buffy's restraints. If The First really was at the end of this maze, why the need for such precaution? Buffy was immediately suspicious. Maybe this thing was a fraud. Maybe they were only calling themselves The First like some tacky Dracula imposter. That thought bolstered her confidence that she could escape. If this thing needed such heavy protection, it had vulnerabilities. And if Buffy could kill it, she could win.

Dagmar stopped when they came to a set of double doors. "I would highly recommend you show The First some respect."

Buffy snorted. "Why would I do that?"

"Because your life hangs in the balance, Slayer. You've violated our world's most important law. Unlike in your own world you have no friends or allies here. If you truly wish to come away from this intact, I'd suggest keeping your attitude in check."

"Why do you care if I live or die?"

Dagmar hesitated. "Because you are Nora's birth mother."

Buffy's eyes widened. "You heard that?"

The demon nodded. "The First had no reason to name your child and thusly didn't. And it was not my place either. You were right earlier, Slayer. If I care about the child, if I want to protect her to the best of my abilities, she belongs with you."

Buffy smiled. "You were wrong about something, Dagmar." The red-skinned creature looked down at her. "I have at least one ally."

Dagmar made a noise in the back of his throat. "Just remember what I said." He put his oversized hands on the doors and pushed.

Buffy followed her daughter's caretaker into a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Sunlight streamed in through colorful stain-glass windows casting a mosaic of colors on the floor. A woman sat at the far end of the large room. She stood from her chair when she spotted Buffy and the demon.

"Slayer. So glad you could come."

With Dagmar's advice fresh in her mind, Buffy bit back the sarcastic response that reflexively came to mind. Instead, she strode toward the woman with Dagmar at her side. The demon kept his hand at her elbow; his presence no longer felt threatening, however, and Buffy walked with her head held high and hazel-green eyes trained on the mysterious woman.

"You seem to know me, but I find myself at a bit of a disadvantage in more than one way."

The woman's face split into a charming smile. Buffy had to admit, she was striking. Bright blue eyes, raven-black hair that fell just past her chin and framed her heart-shaped face. She was tall, but not overly so, sturdy and strong-looking, but still feminine.

"I go by many names," the woman said. The smile remained on her face. "I'm known here in Gafka as Governor Sheila Prentise. But you might know me better as The First Evil. The Worst of the Worst."

Buffy kept her face impassive so as to not show her surprise. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I wasn't expecting this form. Normally you look like me."

The woman, The First, laughed as if truly amused by Buffy's response.

"So what should I call you?" Buffy asked. She tried to make herself look larger than her slight-frame allowed. With her hands chained in front of her body, a demon at her side, and facing an un-killable foe, she felt justifiably vulnerable. "'The First' seems so formal. We're old pals by now, aren't we?"

"On this plane of existence I am simply known as Sheila." The woman smirked. "Or _Nanna_ as your daughter calls me."

The mentioned of her daughter momentarily made Buffy forget herself. "Why did you steal her?" she shrilly demanded. "She has no special powers, no destiny to fulfill. What purpose could you possibly have with her?"

The dark-haired woman pursed her lips. "You surprised me once. I underestimated your resiliency when I sent the Turok-Han after you. I knew it was foolish to come back at you again, and to be honest, I've tired of your world. But I still need to re-organize the balance of Good and Evil on that plane." She started to pace. "You may not be aware of this yet, but the spell your witch evoked that turned those girls into slayers is only temporary. When the magic ends, the balance will nearly be restored. But you and the other Called Slayer will still co-exist." She shook her head. "That cannot continue."

The First sighed. "I know you hate me and see me as the Worst of the Worst, but all I've ever wanted to do was restore balance to your world as it should be. Two slayers were never intended to co-exist. I could have had any one of my numerous followers simply kill you, but you are a formidable opponent who deserves much more than that. So I lured you to this world instead. Your child may not be part of any ancient prophesy, but she's still yours. Forgive me for my underhanded tactics – after all this time, it's the only way I know how to have my Will done. I thought having your daughter here with you might soften the blow of banishment."

"Banishment?" Buffy nearly choked on the word.

The First's face took on an unexpected emotion. She-It-He-Whatever-It-Was, truly looked remorseful. "Yes. I'm afraid, Slayer, that you may never return to your world."

TBC


End file.
